Old Haunts Book Two
by Auna
Summary: Futurefic Series #9: The crew of Moya try to find their missing sons
1. Chapter 1

Title: Old Haunts: Bk 2, chptr 1

Author: Auna

Rating: PG-13 for language and some violence

Disclaimer: Farscape is not mine, and I promise not to ever try to make any money off anything I write that is Farscape related.  Please don't sue me, I'm merely trying to bring you new viewers.  Honest.

Credits: Several BIG thank you's are in order: ScaperRed for a fast, but thorough, beta job; Shipsister for reading the beginning and letting me know it was ok to keep going; and as always, to Sanchez, my awesome creative consultant.

Author's Notes: Ok, I admit it.  This was shelved for a while due to our family's bouts with that awful flu, (during which, the only thing I managed to get out was simple Things), an abscessed tooth over Christmas (which is an interesting story in and of itself, but not what you're here for) and then a BIG hang-up over a very minor plot point, which resulted in a lack of interest.  (Don't you hate it when something little stops you dead cold?)  But enough people asked, poked, prodded and hinted that I got started.  And then it wouldn't stop.  So here it is.  I'm sorry for the delay.  Thank you for hanging in there with me.

NOW… if you're new to this whole Futurefic series, you have some serious catching up to do, because I promise you that you won't know what's going on.  You can try it, but keep an open mind.  Previous stories in order: Finding Herself, Death and Resurrection, Revelations, Target Practice, Reckoning, Snapshots in Time, Deliverance, Old Haunts Book One

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The lights were set to low.  Everyone was sleeping… or at the very least, pretending to sleep.  She couldn't anymore.  It had been three solar days since she'd had any kind of sleep at all, but her mind would not stop to rest, would not give her body the respite she desperately needed.  She knew he was out there somewhere, she knew he needed help, and it was driving her mad not being able to get to him.

Instead, she found herself getting out of bed and moving to the mirror her father had hung in her room.  As she looked at her reflection, she couldn't help but ask herself what Sethya had seen when he looked at her.  What drew him to her?

Her hand reached up and traced the outline of her jaw, her nose, her lips… everywhere he'd kissed her.  It felt the softness of her hair and she grabbed a fistful, pulling it tight from her scalp.  He loved her hair.  He'd never said it, but she knew he did; he seemed to constantly touch it, play with it.  _Frelling idiot_.  If he had stayed behind, like she'd begged of him, he'd be here right now.  D'Argo and Chiana would have their son home.

But he did leave.  He had to play the hero and go running off, proving something.  She missed him.  She was angry.  Her fist pulled even harder on her hair and the slight sting was almost preferable to the constant ache that had settled in her chest and belly.

Beneath the mirror was a small table with various items; her brush, some cream for her hands, a dagger she'd found at the last commerce planet they'd visited.  Perfect.  Without hesitation she reached out with her free hand and grabbed the knife, holding it tightly in her fist.

Before she could change her mind, she whacked violently at the fistful of hair and watched in fascination as the long reddish-brown fibers fell loose into her hand.  Dropping the strands onto the table, she grabbed another fistful of hair and whacked again.  Fist after fist, she slashed away her anger and her hair, until there was almost nothing left to cut.

Tears were coursing down her face in two streams, the drops falling to mix with the nest of hair piled on the table.  Something inside her had been released, and the tension and feeling of helplessness was fading.  The ache still dominated, but felt more bearable now.

In the mirror was a reflection she'd never seen before.  Her head felt light, free; and she wondered why she'd never cut her hair in the past.  She smiled to herself.  Her hair was even shorter that Chiana's, with the exception of one longer clump that hung over the bridge of her nose, right between her eyes.  And it wasn't as neatly trimmed as the Nebari's either.

With the loss of her hair, she felt like a new woman; as if by choosing to shed the tresses, she'd initiated herself into adulthood.  Choices would be hers from now on.  No matter what D'Argo or her father said, she would be there for the rescue.  She was in control of her own life, and that _would include Sethya._

She needed to DO something.  Now that her decision had been made, she was restless and ready for action.  She thought about going and picking a fight with her father, but Aeryn would be there, and her mother needed all the rest she could get.

Without having a plan or destination, she dressed in her favorite brown leather pants and Sethya's shirt that she usually saved for her training sessions.  She'd been wearing it a lot lately.  It was big on her and bloused slightly when she tucked it in.  After slipping on her knee length black boots, she slid her new dagger into the right one, adjusting it until she was used to the new fit, and sure she could access it quickly.

Lastly, she buckled her dual holsters around her waist and thighs.  Strange how she never felt fully dressed anymore without those hugging her.  Lovingly, she picked up her two pulse pistols from the small table beside her bed and slid them into their proper place on her thighs.

Now she was ready.

She stepped from her room in to the corridor, aimlessly heading to the right.  She paused at the first rib of Moya's she came to, patting it gently and silently thanking Moya for her protection and friendship.  Warmth surged through her hand, and she knew that Moya was listening, loving, tolerating, them all.

Her feet began traveling again, and she lost herself in her own thoughts, not caring where she would end up.  _Sethya.__  Always you._   She blushed a little, remembering how brazen she'd been with Sethya, how uncharacteristically shameless in her actions.

She felt his lips, his teeth and the darting of his tongue on her neck.  His arms were around her, his hands caressing her back, holding her eema.  She heard his voice faintly whisper "I love you," in her ear and shivers of pleasure cascaded down her spine.

A little uneasily, she shook herself out of her reverie.  She was getting _way_ too good at that.  Maybe she'd inherited some insanity from her father.  How many times growing up did she find him staring at the stars, talking to some phantom named Harvey?  It was as if he had some invisible friend that he used to hash through all his problems with.

Was that to be her fate?  Was she to be left alone with the imaginations of her heart?  _No.  She would not become her father.  He'd changed this last cycle, but how many cycles before that had he wasted in hiding and regret?  He'd explained his reasoning, and she understood that he'd been trying to protect her._

But he'd also been hiding from himself and his own grief.  She would not do that, be that.  She forced her mind to the present, to her surroundings, and found that she was in the maintenance bay, not three steps from Shadow's lowered ramp.

She knew it was just fanciful thinking but it seemed to her that Shadow was lonely, mourning the loss of her inhabitants.  It sat destitute, calling to her to enter and breathe life into her once again.  "I miss them too," she told the hunk of metal.  She was glad no one else was around to hear her.  Didn't she just tell herself she _wouldn't_ become her father?

Sighing, she stepped onto the ramp and began to ascend.  This would be only her third time onboard.  The first was the day they'd saved her from the mercenaries on that commerce planet.  He'd fought her that day, showed her how much she needed to learn.  She remembered her humiliation, her anger, all directed at Sethya.

The second time was right after Shadow had boarded Moya the last time, when they'd learned the men were missing.  All of them had searched the ship for any clue to what might have happened, where they could have gone, who could have taken them.  She'd been horrified by the sight of the blood on the walls, the destruction of anything not secured to the vessel.

Any clue to what transpired had been erased.  All of the logs were destroyed, any physical clue eradicated, with the exception of the one dead blood tracker and the blood splatters on the walls.  She felt a sick satisfaction that the majority of the splatters were blue and green, with comparatively little red.  They'd kicked eema before they were taken.

She wandered through the ship, familiarizing herself with its design, its feel.  Until the men returned, she had somehow become its unofficial curator.  It was now her responsibility to keep Shadow in prime condition until her true owners could return.  She wasn't here for that, though.

She passed the small command, vaguely telling herself she'd return later and inspect everything.  Instead, she continued down the narrow hall, past the small food room, past Tean's room, until she was standing in front of Sethya's doorway.

She felt odd, standing outside his door, contemplating going in.  It was his private chamber, something you just didn't enter without permission.  She didn't want to invade his private space, but knew the feeling was irrational.

He wasn't here to care, and he wouldn't be for a long time.  There was no way to know what happened, or where to start searching.  The crew, at this moment, was headed to a commerce planet to begin enquiries.  It was a hopeless shot in the dark, but they all agreed they had to start _somewhere._

Taking a deep breath, Brennik reached out and pushed open the door.  Someone else had searched this room earlier, and this was her first look inside.  It was small.  Very small.  How did he live in this on a permanent basis?

There was enough space for his bunk, a small closet and a chest of drawers.  That was it.  She entered the room and shut the door behind her, fighting off the subtle feeling of claustrophobia.  She could still smell him, his unique scent of leather, chalkan oil, and soap.  How long would that last?  How long would his presence permeate the room, giving her a haven?

Over his dresser was a blank, white wall, whereas the rest of the room was a dull grey color.  Odd.  On the dresser sat a small cylindrical object beside a jar of dentics and a comb.  Simple things.  Who would have thought that a man such as he would have to clean his teeth or comb his hair?  Not that you could ever actually _tell_ that he combed his hair.

She smiled at the thought, thinking of her own shorn hair.  Would he get mad?  Probably.  She'd think about that later.  Right now, she wanted to absorb the atmosphere, pretend he was there with her.  Tomorrow she would be strong.  Tomorrow she would be sane and eradicate the senile gene from her habits.  Tonight, she was going to lie in his bunk and surround herself with his presence.

She went to the dresser and picked up the cylindrical object, holding it in her hands, inspecting it.  She had no idea what it was, or what it did.  What kind of hygiene tool could this be?  She sat on the edge of the bed, twisting it in her fingers, feeling the smoothness of the metal.

Abruptly, two halves twisted in opposite directions and she was terrified that she'd already broken something.  The metal fell to the floor and she leaned over to retrieve it.

"Brennik."

She froze, bent over, arm extended, hand reaching for the metal object.  She had finally gone completely crazy.

She wasn't any better than her dad.  Sethya had come to haunt her.  His voice was above her, calling her name.  He was dead, and she was doomed to hearing him in her thoughts, never letting her go.  She was too terrified to look up.  Would she see him as well as hear his voice?  She wasn't sure if that was preferable or not.  She wanted the man, not a spectre.

"Brennik, I really don't know why I'm doing this.  I'm going to see you in about five arns…"  What?  That didn't make any sense at all.  She sat up to see Sethya's face, larger than life on the wall above his dresser.  Her heart leaped into her throat, lodging there.

She scooped up the object and it twisted slightly, stopping the picture from progressing, leaving Sethya's face frozen above the dresser.  Every part of her was shaking.  There he was looking at her, smiling one of his reluctant smiles.  It was obvious this had been recorded in this room, sitting in this spot, looking at the dresser.

For a while she simply stared at his face, relearning everything she'd already memorized.  His brown hair was flying in all directions, as usual.  His brown eyes shone and his scar was slightly hidden behind the smile.  A days' worth of dark stubble on his jaw line seemed to only accent the white of his teeth. Was this to be the last image of him?  The thought was unbearable.  She twisted the object again, and the message continued.

"…but I… don't know.  This is stupid.  When I get back, there's so much we need to talk about.  I'm restless, I can't sleep, and I have to get this off my mind."  He smiled ruefully.  "Look at what you do to me, woman, I'm a mess."

She choked on a sob and stopped the message again.  Tears clouded her vision, distorting his face into a fuzzy image.  She wiped the tears away and forced herself to calm, trying to swallow the lump that refused to dislodge.  Realizing it was useless, she started the message again.

"How would you like to start over?  We could go far away, where no one knows of either of us, where we have no past and we could be whatever we want.  How about Bearth?  Wasn't that what John called his home world?  Maybe we could find Bearth and you could meet your family, John's family.  No one here knows how to get there; I've heard them say so.  You… I mean _we… would be safe, no one hunting us…" _

The door behind him opened and his face turned from view to see who was entering so abruptly.  Laighn's head poked in, the boy obviously out of breath.  "Two Jivihsten slaving ships have just come within range.  They're closing fast."

Sethya jumped up, pulling on his holster that had been resting off screen.  "How the FRELL did they find us?" he asked angrily.  "They didn't know who we were!"

"You're blaming ME?" the hybrid asked incredulously, the rest of his statement lost as both men hurried away, slamming the door behind them.  The video was now recording an empty room.

A thousand thoughts and feelings were racing through her mind.  She was distraught over the thought of them lost in the endlessness of the Jivihsten mines.  She was overjoyed that there was some clue as to where they were, and some hope that they were still alive.

"Dad," she said with a shaky voice into her comms, pausing the recording of the empty room.  She cleared her throat and tried again.  "Dad, D'Argo, you need to get up here.  Now.  I know where the boys are."

"Where are you?" D'Argo asked immediately, obviously not losing any sleep because of her interruption.

"I'm on Shadow.  Hurry."

"Coming," John declared at the same time D'Argo confirmed he was en route.

She sat on the bed, waiting for them, knowing that Chiana and Aeryn would come as well.  She fiddled nervously with the controller, trying to divert her racing thoughts by figuring out how to access the beginning of the message again.  How the hezmana were they supposed to rescue them from a place like the mines?

It was a motley, sorry looking group sitting around the large table in the Center Chamber.  John was wearing only his leather pants, Aeryn, a pair of knee length underwear and one of his t-shirts.  D'Argo was in a robe, while Chiana sat next to him in a skimpy nightie. 

Brennik was the only one fully dressed, though she matched everyone else with her tousled hair, pale complexion and dark circles under her eyes.  Everyone was exhausted from anguish and lack of sleep, and it was evident.  Pilot, included in the meeting via clamshell, was the only one in the group who looked like his normal self, but she could see the same worry in his eyes as the rest of the group.

Earlier, John had been the first to rush into Sethya's room, only to freeze instantly with a look of horror at Brennik's hair.  He was speechless, just staring for a microt, but didn't say a word about the cut.  Instead, he'd asked what she had discovered.  The others had similar reactions, but nobody had said a word, didn't ask questions, just pulled themselves together and pretended she'd always looked like that.

Only now that they had moved to accommodate everyone, John kept staring at her head, as if mourning the loss.  Well, he'd get over it.  It was hers to cut, and she didn't miss it.

"So what do we know about these Jivihsten slavers?" John asked, pulling his eyes from her hair to address the whole group.  "I've never heard of them."

"They are the company that Shedya and Sethya infiltrated just before finding Moya, to rescue Rygel," D'Argo supplied.

"How much of the operation did he tell you?" Aeryn asked.

"Not a lot.  I know he was leaving parts out.  The mines are run by a man who goes by the name Netrijon.  Shedya didn't say much about him.  He said that the mines are huge.  There are thousands of slaves working there, both mining and domestic.  Their headquarters are a castle on the sea shore, and the interior is a maze of hallways and corridors.  There is no way to land a ship on the ocean side, and the entrance is heavily fortified by a wall and armed guards.  That's all we know."

"Well, they must have pissed off _somebody_ important, for them to go to the effort to hunt them down," John mumbled.

"I got the impression everything is very organized," Chiana added.  "They keep detailed reports on everyone there, visitors, employees, slaves."

"So you think that if we could gain access to one of their databases, we might be able to find the location of the boys?" Aeryn asked.

"Got a better plan?"

"We've had worse," John answered.  "Do we even know where this place is?"

"Yes," Pilot answered, speaking for the first time.  "We do.  Moya is already headed for the mining colony."

"Do you know how long, Pilot?" Chiana asked, impatience pushing to get her to her son.

"Estimated arrival in twelve arns."

A collective sigh breathed throughout the room.  At last, they were finally _doing_ something.

Everyone on this frelling ship was farhbot, including himself.  Here they were on Tenberique Three, home of the Jivihsten mines.  For the last six arns he'd watched Chiana pace the halls of Moya, D'argo sharpen his Qualta Blade, Mom clean her pulse pistols, Dad write in his notebook, and Brennik fight a punching bag.

And speaking of Brennik, what the frell did she do to her hair?  When he went to bed last night, they were headed for the nearest commerce planet and Brennik had a full head of neatly trimmed hair.  When he woke up, they were headed for some slaving operation and Brennik looked like her hair had gotten stuck in the blades of ol' Furball's tractor.

And she had a whole new attitude to go with her haircut.  It wasn't anything definable, but she seemed to hold herself a little straighter, walk with more purpose; have more confidence in herself.  It was as if she had come to decision, and the rest of the universe could frell themselves, she was going to follow through with whatever she'd decided.

He'd have given a thousand crendars to see the look on Dad's face when he saw what she'd done.  But he'd missed it.  Like he'd missed the meeting about the discovery of the boy's whereabouts.  No one had thought to call him.

But back to everyone else being farhbot.  Here they were on Tenberique Three, home of the Jivihsten mines, planning a raid on a heavily guarded slaving operation… and the only plan they had was to get to a database center, find out where the missing crew were, then go get them.  Even _he knew the plan was frelled, and he was only thirteen cycles._

The worst part of this whole situation was being left behind on Moya, to be baby-sat by Noranti and Pilot.  How many cycles had he worked all day in the field with no supervision, other than the threat of a whip from the master if he messed up?  The whip was no longer there, but his freedom hadn't increased at all.

He had assets.  He could contribute to the group, but here he was being left behind.  Nobody thought about the fact that he could fly almost as well as Brennik.  He didn't have the instincts she had with the biomechaniod ships, but he could hold his own in the module or the prowler.  For all the overbearing attitude John had been showing, he'd taken the time to train him.

Sometimes, the old man could be drad.  Other times, well… he was a dad.

He wasn't going to be left behind this time.  So what if he couldn't bring himself to pick up a pulse pistol?  He could help SOME way!  Tean was his friend, and that's what friends did, they helped each other.

Grabbing his skateboard, he headed from his room, determination in his step.  He had to hurry if he was going to make it in time.  "Pilot, I'm going to the lower tiers to skate.  I think I saw some good ramps down there last weeken, I want to check it out."

"Yes, Aeric.  Please keep your comms ready, in case Moya and I should need some assistance."

Stepping onto his board, he rolled his eyes dramatically.  Oh, please.  How old did Pilot think he was, that he would fall for THAT?  "Sure, Pilot.  Let me know."

"Thank you, Aeric."

He pushed off, gaining speed quickly.  He took the side routes, the little used halls, and kept his speed high, taking each turn faster than he ever had.  He had to get there quickly, but he had to get there unnoticed as well.

Aeryn was pacing in front of the transport pod, one hand tapping against her thigh as she walked, the other absently holding her slightly swollen belly.  Every few microts, she'd look up to an empty room, impatiently waiting for the others to join her.  A thousand thoughts crowded through her mind, each fighting for her attention.

She was worried about leaving Aeric alone on Moya with Noranti.  The old witch could be lucid at moments, but she wasn't exactly someone she wanted watching her sulking teenager.  He was old enough to be left alone under normal circumstances, but these were no longer normal circumstances.  She doubted if they ever would be again.

She worried about Brennik, and the choices her daughter would be making, had been making.  Her haircut was awful, but Aeryn couldn't tell her that.  Had she been spending enough time with her children?  Had she tried too hard to make up for the lost time with Bren?  She wanted a closeness with her, and sometimes it felt as if they were making headway.  Other times, she felt like they would never really know each other.

She worried about her friends, Chiana and D'Argo.  They had been true and loyal, even when she didn't remember them.  Chiana had been a female companion to her these last several monens, helping her adjust to a lifestyle that was foreign, and as she slowly regained memories, the woman had been there to listen and help fill in blank spots.  And now her friend's son was missing, possibly dead.  _No!  Not dead._

The boy had been respectful, intelligent, and had D'Argo's sense of loyalty and honor.  They'd done a good job with him, and Aeryn had looked forward to knowing him, to having his influence help Aeric where she seemed to be falling short.  John was doing the best he could, but maybe if the boy had someone closer to his own age, things wouldn't be so hard or lonely for him.

She worried about Sethya and Tean.  They were good boys.  They were so young, yet so old in many ways.  Sethya would take care of Brennik, once they hauled his eema home where it belonged.  Did the boys realize yet that their fates were now irreversibly connected to those of Moya?  They were alive.  They had to be.  She didn't have Noranti's power of divination, but she had begun to feel like a mother to those two, and her instincts were telling her they were alive.

_But for how long?_

Light boot steps sounded in the hall and Chiana appeared, tired, bedraggled, with dark circles under her eyes.  "Sorry, I… uh… fell asleep and D'Argo didn't wake me."

"He and John left about two arns ago to conduct recon surveillance in Lo'La.  There wasn't anything we could do yet, and we thought you needed your sleep."

"Did they find anything?  And where's Brennik?  We need to get moving."

"She's on her way.  They have topographical scans of the entire compound, now, and they found a way for us to get to the castle without going through the front gate."

"Why not just cloak Lo'La and land on her front doorstep?" Brennik asked, approaching the two women.

"They thought of that, but there's a force field surrounding the castle and we don't know what it is.  John thinks it might be an electronic impulse shield, which disables any ship flying into it."

"So how do we get in?" Chiana asked, headed for the pod.

"Where did he come up with that?" Brennik asked doubtfully.

"I don't know, he didn't explain.  But he sounded pretty sure of himself, so I'm going to take his word for it," Aeryn said.

Chiana was already in the transport, waiting for her companions.  "Get your eemas on board, time is wasting.  So, how do we get into the castle?" she asked again.  Everyone was onboard and they were lifting off, Brennik flying.

"I'm not sure of the specifics yet, but between the wall and the castle is a desert, several metras wide.  In the middle of the desert is an oasis.  They say it looks like a tourist city. You can land there with your ships, but that's it."

"That doesn't make any sense at all.  Why have a tourist city in the middle of a heavily guarded compound?" Brennik asked logically.

"I don't know.  We're about to find out."

"There's always a catch," Chiana mumbled, voicing the concerns of everyone on board.

This compound was one giant litter box. It reminded him too much of Dam Ba Da, and that was one memory he was willing to live without.  Would Aeryn think of it?  Her memory was still Swiss Cheese, but some things came through clearly, and usually overwhelmingly.  She didn't need this crap right now.  None of them did.

He didn't want her down here, didn't want her anywhere near this slaving operation.  But he didn't have much choice in the situation.  She was going to do what _she_ wanted to do.  That much hadn't changed.  And she was doing this for her daughter and for Chiana.

So was he, but he wasn't pregnant either, damn her.  He was starting to get hot in his long leather coat and gloves, but he didn't dare take them off. They were probably the only things protecting him from the dust being blown around.  That was another issue, the heat.   She could take it for a short amount of time, she had been fine on Dam Ba Da, but he didn't like chancing it.

He and D'Argo were standing outside of Lo'La, waiting for the women to join them at the landing pads before taking them into the town.  He'd optimistically referred to it as a city earlier, but it had only taken them a quarter arn to walk from one end to the other.  Not exactly the metropolis.  Why would tourists come here? What was supposed to be the big draw?

Maybe they had really good stage shows or something.  He really didn't care.

What he cared about was his wife on her way down to this planet with their daughter.  And he cared about his two friends, and how badly they were suffering.  D'Argo had already been down this road once.  It had to be hell to relive it all over again.  Was D'Argo thinking of Jothee right now?

The big Luxan was pacing, scanning the few other loiterers, restless.  "We'll get him out, D."

"I know, John."

"He's a good kid.  He's smart, and he has Chiana's sense of self-preservation.  I'm sure he can handle himself."

"I know."

"Sethya and Tean are taking good care of him.  They won't abandon him."

"They will try for as long as they can."

"And he has your heart, D'Argo.  You taught him well."

D'Argo stopped pacing and looked at John, tears in his eyes.  "I didn't even want him at first.  Chiana brought him home, like every other soul she'd tried to rescue in the past.  And I wanted to send him away."

"But you didn't.  And you loved him, and he knows that you love him."  D'Argo didn't say anything, but John saw the tension ease slightly from his tired frame, and his eyes didn't look quite as haunted.  "Where are the women?" John asked to fill the silence.

On cue, a transport pod became visible in the bright sky, slowly descending until it landed perfectly beside Lo'La.

It was cramped under the floor plating of the transport pod.  His knees, kissing his chin, were beginning to lose all feeling.  It was dark and breathing was difficult, but he managed to hold still and remain quiet.  He was actually pretty proud of himself.  The women had boarded, sat right above him for a quarter arn while they traveled to the planet, and none of them had realized he was there.

The landing was harder than he'd have liked.  The air was knocked from his lungs, but luckily the sound was masked by the noise of the pod hitting the ground.  He waited until all the voices had disappeared for several hundred microts before he lifted the floor plating, peeking into the pod.  All was clear.

Now to put into action some of the skills he'd learned long ago, as a slave.  It was amazing what you could discover about those around you, when you were a boy that no one chose to see, a piece of the furniture.  

She was tired.  And she was hungry… again.  They'd been walking around this township for three arns, and they were no closer to their goal than when they'd arrived.  Everyone in this frelling waste dump was mute.  All they were looking for was a land vehicle to go on a sightseeing tour, and no one seemed to have any.

Time after time they were told to find Jeleen, she could help them, if she felt like it.  But no one would say where she was or how to contact her.  And they all seemed to get this scared, wary look when speaking of her, as if by merely mentioning her name some horrible fate was going to befall them.

No one had any information about the castle or the mining operation either.  They were all frelling idiots.  "This is getting us nowhere," Aeryn fumed as they stepped out of yet another business dwelling onto a boardwalk.  "I hope D'Argo and Chiana are having better luck than we are."

"I doubt it.  They'd have called by now.  D'Argo, Chiana, how you guys doin'?"

"This is a total waste of time.  Nobody is talking," D'Argo seethed over the comms.

"They're all a bunch of frelling idiots," Chiana grumbled.  "All they'll say is to find Jeleen, but then nobody knows how to find her.  Or they just _won't_ say."

"We're having the same problem," John agreed.

"There was a tavern on the fourth street from the landing pads," D'Argo told them.  "Meet us there and we can come up with a new plan."

"Does it have food?" John asked, slanting a look at his wife, who was starting to look a bit tired.  "I'm starving."

"If not, we'll find some," D'Argo returned, understanding that the human was concerned for Aeryn and not his own comfort.

"Mom, Dad," Brennik's voice filtered through the comms.  She'd separated from them an arn ago to conduct her own enquiries.  "Aeric is here in the city somewhere."

"WHAT?" Four voices shouted at the same time.

"I went back to the transport pod, to make sure everything was all right.  I found one of the floor panels loose and when I checked under it, I found his skateboard."

Swearing erupted over the comms in a cacophony of ten different languages, with all four adults using each language proficiently.  "Brennik, stay there in case he comes back," John finally broke though the noise.

"All right."

"He has to be around here somewhere, this place isn't all that big," John said pragmatically.

"Yeah, but if he has your talent for hiding," Chiana started.

"Twenty-eight cycles and you guys STILL harp about that!  Let's just start searching."

"We will search the first seven streets, you two search the other seven," D'Argo said before their comms fell silent.

Aeryn raised an eyebrow, looking at him inquiringly.  "Remind me."

"Some other time," he hedged.  "You start down that side of the street, I'll go down this side.  We'll meet up at that bar at the end."  She nodded, and headed off to look for her son.  He was glad that the town seemed to be built in one large square.  It made canvassing the establishments much easier.

He knew Aeric wasn't in the shop they had just left, so he went to the next one and opened the door, stepping in to find a scene from Andy Griffith, if Andy Griffith ever had pink and yellow aliens with various amounts of eyes or tentacles. 

Four men were sitting on chairs lining a wall, waiting their turn in what he assumed was a barber chair.  What he hoped was a barber chair.  Two other men were in chairs, each with a green-smocked, purple-nosed, orange-fanged man standing behind them, doing… something to their heads.

They looked up as he entered; some acknowledged him with a nod, others waving in that casual "manly" way that seemed to be universal to every species.

"…so then Fredplin," one of the men waiting for his turn continued his story to the general group, "walked down to Ghorshin's with a pulse rifle and told him to give her up!"

One of the barbers shook his head, some of the men laughed, others groaned.  One man "tsked."  "That idiot wasn't blessed with the common sense of a Ratfling," someone said.

"Ghorshin isn't going to give anything up to that drunken Hennoot, especially his daughter!"

"Someone needs to take him out to the Wyrms," another joined in.  "Teach him a lesson."

"Excuse me," John interrupted, waving his hand slightly.  "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm looking for my son.  He looks a lot like me, comes up to about my shoulder," he said, indicating with his hand how tall Aeric was.  "Have any of you seen him?"

"Isn't that like kids today?" one of them asked.  "Disappear the moment you turn your head.  No respect, I tell you.  Why, just two days ago, little Nefrt Denaqthidon disappeared for three arns!"

"Yes, well…" John tried.

"His mother was in a panic, thought he'd wandered in to the Wyrmland," another patron offered.

"But…"

"So that's what the commotion was all about!  She was running around, trying to convince everyone that Jeneel had kidnapped little Nefrt," yet a third one contributed.

"Who is…"

"She's convinced that child is an angel," someone else piped up.

"I just…"

"Jeneel wouldn't go near that monster, even to feed the Wyrms.  He'd be too much trouble."

"You mean she feeds…"

"And he'd probably give one of those things indigestion and be spat back anyway."

"JUST HOLD ON A MICROT!" John finally hollered.  All eyes turned to him in surprise, as if they were seeing him for the first time.

"Have you seen my son?"

"No," they all said, nearly in unison.

"Who is this Jeneel, and please tell me that I misunderstood that part about her feeding kids to some kind of creature?"

"Oh, she wouldn't do that," one of the patrons offered and John began to sigh in relief.  "She usually goes for young adults." 

His gut clenched up again.

"She's the guide to the castle," someone else offered.  "Works for that pretty boy Netrijon.  She's been given the secret of getting through the Wyrmlands."

"Wyrmlands?"

The door behind John crashed open, and in walked a mutant Roman soldier.  The man was roughly six feet tall with metal shin guards, a metal helmet with obnoxious flowing feathers protruding from the top, and a metal breastplate.  But the best of the outfit was the green skirt flowing around his thighs that showed just enough knobby knee to turn John's stomach.

He was impressed with the man's security in his masculinity, to wear something like that and not be embarrassed.  The one time John had worn a dress… well… some things were better forgotten.  Hopefully that was one image that would remain in the dark recesses of Aeryn's lost memories.

He turned back around to the group of men to find that all of them were suddenly busy doing other things, the conversation obviously very closed.  Frustrated, he nodded to the skirted man, who was now sitting in a vacant chair, and walked out the door.

Shop after shop, it was the same thing.  No one had seen a young boy looking like him.  By the end of the street, he was frustrated and beginning to get worried.  Aeric could take care of himself, but if there was a psychotic woman out there who wanted to use him for bait, he didn't stand much of a chance.

He was going to wring his neck.  What was it with his children?  First Brennik, now Aeric.  You'd think they had trouble with authority or something.  Where did they get THAT trait?  It wasn't from him; that was for sure.

Finally, he was at the bar he'd agreed to meet Aeryn in.  Anger building with each failure, he pushed the door open harshly, nearly slamming it against the wall with his force.  Oops.  Maybe Aeric was in here.  The boy had obviously wanted to help with the search; maybe he thought he'd learn something in a bar.  It wasn't like aliens had age requirements.

The inside was dark, made even darker by his sunglasses, and it was difficult to see much of anything, let alone a boy wanting to remain hidden.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but figures started coming into focus.

The bar was only half filled.  At one table in the middle of the room was a small group of individuals doing their best to get drunk.  In a corner watching them, obviously slightly amused, was a woman, sipping at a teal glass in her hand as she returned John's gaze.

Aeric was nowhere to be seen.  Damn.

The door opened behind him and Aeryn walked in, her long black coat swirling around her ankles.  Even five months pregnant and over 50, she was still beautiful.  No, not beautiful.  She was exquisite… more now than ever.

He had to take off his sunglasses to see her eyes, and the worry and anger he saw in their depths matched his own.  "No luck, with me either," he confirmed, stating the obvious.

"He is in so much trouble," she said, her temper barely held in check.  Any second now she was going to switch to tears, and he wasn't sure how he was going to handle that.  He preferred the anger.

"Why don't you sit down and rest a microt.  I'll start on the next street…"

"No, I can't stop until we find him.  It will be dark soon."

"I did manage to find out more about the elusive Jeneel.  Seems she works for The Elected, Netrijon.  She's the only guide to the castle."  He left off the psychotic part.  That was the last thing she needed to hear right now.

"All we need is a frelling vehicle.  We can get to the castle on our own."

"Except you have to cross through something called the Wyrmlands, which from what I can gather is a nasty place.  But everyone clammed up after that."

"Dad, Mom, D'Argo, Chiana," Brennik called over the comms.  "Aeric came back, he's fine and back at the transport pod."

"Keep him there," John ordered, seeing the tears of relief pool in Aeryn's eyes before she turned away and headed for the door.  "We're on our way."

"Don't worry, Dad.  He isn't going anywhere."  Well… it sounded like she had things under control.  If he wasn't so angry, he'd feel sorry for the boy.

Aeryn lay in the darkness next to John, listening to his heavy breathing, wishing she could sleep that well.  Every position she tried, she was uncomfortable.  If she lay on her back, the baby pushed against her spine.  Her stomach was impossible.  The only truly comfortable position was to lay on her side and use John as a body pillow.  But it was a hot night out and to drape herself over him would invite an uncomfortable amount of heat for them both.

So she lay wide-awake, uncomfortable, on her back and watched the shadows on the ceiling slowly move with the orbit of the moon.  Aeric and Brennik were in the room next to them, D'Argo and Chiana across the hall.  Once they'd found out that air travel was forbidden after midday, due to safety regulations, they had all been forced to find a hotel for the night.

The one they had found was small, but well cleaned and was the only one in the area that had rooms available.  John called it a "Bed and Breakfast," which seemed generous to Aeryn.  But it was only for a night.  They had resolved to find this Jeneel woman the following day.

To do that, they were going to have to use Aeric, against her better judgement.  But the boy had a gift to convince people he was their best friend and confidant, getting them to talk to him about things they would normally keep to themselves.

He had managed to garner the information no one else had been able to acquire.  He'd gone back to the transport pod earlier, filled with knowledge of the area and contacts they'd need.  After he'd been yelled at and grounded for the rest of his natural life, the crew had managed to sit quietly enough to listen to what he had to say.

Jeneel was the key.  She was the guide for Netrijon, and was given instructions when to bring visitors to the castle, and when to lose them.  But she was also homicidal, with a penchant for torture.  Which made her perfect to escort guests through the Wyrmland.

The Wyrmland was a vast desert that was infested with giant, translucent worms, known as Wyrms.  They were creatures that had to be avoided at all costs, though nobody would say why.  There were unmarked safe trails through their territory to the castle, but the only one who knew the route was Jeneel.

Evidently, there was a safe road leading from the front entrance of the compound to the castle, but that was for official business transactions only.  If you were dealing in the business of slaves, you could enter through the front door.  Everyone else had to take the circuitous route through the "Tourist City."

It was a way for Netrijon to play with people's minds, and to discourage anyone from an attempt to free friends or family members from bondage.  Well, it was too frelling bad.  How did Sethya and Shedya manage to free Rygel, with not one weapon being fired?

The Elected had a vast number of guards stationed throughout the compound, in his mines, his castle and several in the township itself; the men with the green skirts that always managed to be a conversation stopper.

As her thoughts continued to drift over everything that happened that day, all that they had learned, something indefinable changed in the air around them.  She became more alert and listened intently to the dark night.

Nothing.  She could hear John's heavy breathing, accentuated by her own heart pounding in her ears.  No other sound broke into the silence.  But there was an electric charge in the air, as if someone, or something, was too close, sharing her breath.

Slowly, quietly, she reached under John's pillow and wrapped her fingers around Winona.  She lay still, making sure not to show any trace of movement, and watched the room, the shadows on the ceiling. Sure enough, they changed.

Still there was silence, but a long, thin shadow shifted abruptly.  Someone was in the room.  Her grip on the weapon tightened, her finger wrapping itself over the trigger.  She would be ready.

A tall, dark figure lunged toward her.  She pulled John's pulse pistol from under his pillow, knocking his head to the side with her force, and aimed it at the center of the mass.  "Stop right there!" she commanded, the anger in her voice so cold it had to have dropped the temperature in the room by several degrees.

The figure stopped as John woke instantly on his side of the bed and sat up in alarm, automatically reaching for his missing pulse pistol.  "Aeryn, what's happening?"  The sheet fell down around his waist, exposing his bare chest.  His hair was all matted to one side, made worse when his hand brushed through it in frustration.

Aeryn kept the gun aimed at the mass standing directly at the end of their bed.  "That is what is happening."

"Do not be alarmed," a sweet, feminine voice broke through the darkness.  "I am here to help you."

"You should have used the front door… and knocked," John said, his anger matching Aeryn's.

The moon glinted off something shiny, metallic, before a soft swooshing sound preceded its disappearance.  "I have to keep a low profile," she said.  "I am not very popular around here.  You wouldn't believe some of the stories they tell about me.  They are pretty fantastic."

"What do you want," Aeryn asked flatly.

"Oh, it's not what _I_ want.  I'm told you want passage to Netrijon's headquarters.  I can assist you with that."

"Jeneel," John realized.

"At your service."  The dark figure bowed low, an arm sweeping in the darkness.

Aeryn continued to train Winona on the figure as John climbed from the bed and turned on the lights.  He'd slept in his underwear that night, and when the lights turned on, he was standing beside his side of the bed, naked except for a pair of black PK issued underwear.

Aeryn's attention was instantly divided between her husband and the woman at the edge of the bed, ogling him.  She couldn't blame her, he was gorgeous.  But the look in her olive green eyes was more than just idle appreciation.

The woman was of a medium build with soft ivory skin and sky blue, curly hair.  Her eyes were olive green, her lips blood red.  She was smiling with a sweetness to match her voice, and her eyes held the innocence of a young child.  Aeryn didn't trust her. Nervousness snaked down her spine, and an instinct told her to be careful, that not everything was as it seemed.

She was ogling him, and there he was, standing like an idiot, nearly naked, letting her inspect him.  Aeryn's eyes narrowed slightly and he knew he was going to be in trouble later.  But, dammit, he couldn't shake the feeling he knew her from somewhere. 

He stared at her face, trying to place where he might have met her.  "Uh, have we met before?"  Ok, it was one of the oldest used pick-up lines in the entire universe, he didn't care which end you were from.  But he couldn't take his eyes away.  Something was holding him hostage, and he felt that until he could figure out that small piece of information, he'd be held entranced forever.

"I don't believe so," she said, joy spreading across her features.

"Are you sure?  I could've sworn I've seen you before."

"Who knows?  It's a small town."

Her eyes shifted to Aeryn and he was finally released.  Now he was just irritated.  He would place where he'd seen her before, just give him time. Scrambling to his clothes, he shoved his legs into his pants and fastened them, his mind still working.  "AHA!" he exclaimed, standing up and pointing at her.  "You were the woman in the bar, watching the drunks.  I _knew I'd seen you before."_

Triumphant, he looked over to Aeryn to see her scowling at him.  What did he do this time?  Crap.  She thought he was flirting with another woman—while standing around in his underwear.  But it wasn't LIKE that!  He saw the scowl deepen and knew it wouldn't matter.  He had some smooth talking to do, to get him out of this one.

Pregnancy; there had to be a better way to bring children into the world- one that didn't involve hormones.

That woman had to go.  Dad might not see it, but every time he wasn't looking at her, she eyed Aeryn with pure venomous hatred.  What was this woman's problem?  She wasn't to be trusted, that was for sure.  And Brennik was starting to get the opinion that she was leading them in circles.

They'd been traveling for three arns in the back of an unpowered, wooden vehicle, pulled by a beast of burden.  And the poor best looked like it had seen its share of burdens in its lifetime.  They were surrounded by sand as far as the eye could see.  There were no landmarks, the hills obviously transient with the wind.

Three arns traveling, and still it seemed as if they were no closer to their goal.  They also had yet to see one of these dreaded Wyrms.  Brennik was beginning to wonder if they were nothing more than a fable to keep the slaves and villagers obedient.

Jeleen was steering their vessel with a set of leather reins, Aeric sitting beside her on the high seat.  John, Aeryn, Brennik, D'Argo and Chiana all sat in the back in various stages of exhaustion and boredom.  They all held their weapons of choice loosely in their hands, keeping an eye out for the elusive beasts.  As time dragged on, their vigilance grew less and less… well… vigilant.

"I have to pee," Aeryn declared firmly.

"How much longer until we reach the castle?" John asked.

"I have to pee _now," Aeryn reiterated.  "I've held it for three frelling arns, and this wagon will stop right _now._"_

"Aeryn, it's not…"

"It's all right; there is an oasis in this area.  She can go behind that dune and she'll be fine," Jeleen interrupted, sympathy and concern dripping from her voice.

"I'll go with you…" John started, only to be interrupted by Aeryn cutting him off.

"No, you won't.  I have been peeing for over fifty cycles by myself, I think I can handle it this time as well."

"I'll hold your gun for you," he said, only to stop abruptly by the look on her face and Chiana's choking laugh. 

Aeryn glanced at Chiana, smirking at what she knew the Nebari woman was thinking.  "If I were a man, I'd take you up on that…"

"You KNOW what I meant, Aeryn," he started, but she was already climbing out of the wagon, refusing help from D'Argo to get down.

"I'll be fine."

He stood on the high seat, trying to see over the dune and keep an eye on her.  She hadn't really gone very far.  She was actually only a few motras away, the distance an illusion by the dirt mounds surrounding them.

She'd only been gone a few microts when a low rumble could heard deep below them.

"What the hezmana is THAT?" Chiana asked the question everyone was too stunned to voice.

Break to clarify the two actions more. The ground began to shake, knocking John off the seat and forcing the others to grab onto the wagon.  The shock wave also flattened the dune, giving everyone a clear view of Aeryn.  She was in the process of fastening her pants, but chose to abandon the effort to draw her pulse pistol and run for the wagon.  In her expanded state, she was only able to get three steps before the ground beneath her shot upward, sending her flying into the air.

Her pulse pistol flew out of her hand, landing beside Brennik in the back of the wagon and a massive, translucent, slimy worm shot out of the ground directly beneath her, flying into the air in pursuit.  John screamed, trying to run to her, but the ground was still shaking too violently, and nobody could gain any footing.

Aeryn reached the pinnacle of her ascent and began traveling downwards, straight in to the open jaws of the awaiting wyrm.  Stunned, John, Aeric, Brennik, D'Argo and Chiana, watched in shocked horror as she slid downwards into the creature's maw, fighting the entire time as the wyrm landed in the dirt.  With a slight sucking sound, the mouth closed. Jeneel sat in silent fascination, enthralled by the drama playing out before her.

"You BITCH!" John yelled to Jeneel, jolting the group from their moment of shock.  He opened fire on the massive wyrm, now lying sedately as it digested its meal.  D'Argo transformed his Qualta Blade, and Chiana joined into the fight with her pulse rifle.  Brennik aimed her shots at the monster's face.

At first, the wyrm merely ignored the pounding, but one shot hit its mouth and suddenly, with amazing speed, it turned its attention to the group in the wagon.  "Oh, frell!  Here it comes!"  Chiana yelled uselessly.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Old Haunts; Book 2, chptr 2

Author: Auna

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Disclaimer: Farscape is not mine, and I'm not making any money

Credit Due: Scrubschick and shipsister took a look at it and helped me to keep going.  ScaperRed tried to fix all my grammar mistakes, but a woman can only do so much.  Don't blame her.  And Sanchez was an awesome creative consultant, who gave me the visual I needed to start this chapter.  Thank you!

********************************************************************

Everything was happening too quickly.  One microt she was relieving herself, the next she was running as hard as she could for the wagon.  Only she hadn't been fast enough, or strong enough.  Something from underneath catapulted her into the air, and she felt the weightlessness of flight.

But it hadn't lasted long enough.  All too soon, she was heading downward again, her stomach in her throat with the assurance that she was going to hit the dirt and possibly shatter several bones.  That would be fine, she could handle that.

But she was fighting with everything she had to stay upright, off her stomach.  _Not the baby, don't land on the baby._

Another vision, another time invaded the present and she was falling in a chair, locked in the straps, unable to break free.  _"I hope you meant what you said in the neural cluster.  I did."_

And she was engulfed in freezing, churning water, sucking her downward.  She was powerless to stop it.  _Not you, Crichton, it wasn't you.  It's not your fault._  She fell, struggling to free herself as she continued downward, clawing; trying to swim with the burden of the metal chair.

She gasped for air, her lungs burning and filling with cold liquid.  _Try to hold your breath, don't breathe.  But it was useless and she couldn't wait any longer, and her lungs expelled what little air was in them, only to deeply inhale the frigid liquid._

But the water wasn't cold.  It was warm and thick and gooey as it entered, filling her.  And suddenly, she wasn't in the chair, falling through arctic water, murdered by the one man she could ever love.

She was inside the belly of a giant wyrm, looking out to that same man, and through the distance she could see the tears cascade down his face as he pulled out his pistols and fired a barrage at her captor.  Poor John.  How many times in his life would he have to live through her death?

She struggled as she waited for it, the inevitable suffocation.

It was headed straight for them, mouth opened as it snaked across the dunes, charging.  All he could do was sit next to the woman who had betrayed his mother, helplessly staring at the sight of his father losing control.

In the cycle they'd been together he'd never seen his father this way, never imagined the man who always seemed to have complete control over himself and his family, could become the man before him now.  Dad was screaming, the sound gut-wrenching and ferocious.  Tears were streaming down his face, unnoticed, and he was firing a volley of blasts at the animal charging toward them.

The blasts were useless, only succeeding on angering the wyrm, but Dad, Uncle D, Chiana and Brennik stood their ground, refusing to retreat or give up.  He was useless, without a weapon and his father's words came back to haunt him.  _Someday you, or someone you love, is going to depend on you knowing how to shoot._  All he could do was sit next to HER and make sure she didn't do anything else to make things worse, when what he wanted to do was stand next to his father and shoot the dren out that monster charging them.

All this took only a microt to pass through his mind, and the giant translucent creature was upon them. Its head reared back, traveling upwards as it screamed.  Higher the creature went, towering over them and rising.  Its momentum catapulted the wyrm into the air and it seemingly flew over their heads, through a barrage of firepower, to the other side of the unmarked road, landing face first into the dirt.

It wiggled and squirmed as it disappeared beneath the surface, until there was nothing left- not even a mark to show where the wyrm had burrowed.  Everyone stared, amazed.

"What the frell just happened?" Chiana asked.  "Why didn't it eat us?"

"We're in the safe zone," Jeleen remarked, unfazed by the four weapons suddenly swung in her direction.  "It _can't_ enter into this area."

"Why?"

"I don't know.  I don't care."

Dad stalked over to Jeleen, pulling her from the wagon by a fistful of blue hair, the curls twirling around his fingers.  He forced her to her knees and held her head back and pushed Winona against her left temple, the sun shining into her green, innocent eyes.  "Lady," he said; his voice low and deadly, "you will care.  If she dies, you will care for a very, very long time."

She looked up at his face, far above hers, and the admiration shone through.  Her breathing deepened and she smiled in adulation.  "Really?"

"Dad, if we don't get her soon, she'll suffocate," Brennik reminded.

"Where is the wyrm," he asked.

"Below ground."

"How do we find it?"

"Send someone into its territory.  They are always hungry."

"How do we kill it?"

"The only way I've ever seen one killed, was a direct blast into its mouth.  But I don't think you'll want to do that."

"Lady, I'm going to do what ever it takes to take that thing down…"

"Oooo, that'll be fun then.  It causes an instant fireball encased inside the wrym."

"John, don't believe _anything_ that trelk tells you," D'Argo cautioned as he scanned the dunes for any signs of the beast.

"Oh, she'll tell us," Dad assured.  "If she doesn't, I'll feed _her to the wyrms."_

"You can't," she stated with confidence.  "I am your only way out."

He lowered her face close to hers, his breath gently stirring her blue curls.  "I… don't… care."  For moment she stared into his eyes, and as slow comprehension seeped through her arrogance, the triumphant smile faded.

She finally understood, and she was scared.  "Your trelk and the brat inside her are fine.  The wyrms digest their prey alive.  As soon as she breathes in for the first time, the innard jelly will fill her lungs and stomach.  It will supply her with all the oxygen and nutrients she needs to survive until the wyrm has digested her major organs."

Aeric couldn't help it.  His breakfast pushed itself out and he found himself leaning over, letting it fall to the sand below.  Heave after heave, his mind flashed with the image of his mother, filled with the inner goo of that monster.  He fell to his knees and each retch, each gag ripping through his body felt as if it were trying to tear out his insides.

A cool hand pressed against his forehead, another rubbing his back, and when he was finished, those two gentle hands helped him to stand.  A grey sleeve wiped his mouth, face and the moisture in his eyes and he was able to see Chiana before him, concern in her features.

She pulled him close, drawing his head to her shoulder and wrapping her arms around him, kissing him on the side of his ear, just his own mother had done on countless occasions.  He should be embarrassed, he should pull away and collect himself, be a man.    

But her slight arms were too comforting, too encompassing, and he allowed himself a moment of weakness before he finally pulled away.

She smiled at him and patted his cheek gently.  "She'll…she'll be fine," she said with a twitch of her head.  "She's been through worse… much worse.  Just watch.  We'll… we'll get her."

He looked over her shoulder and the sight that met him was daunting.  Brennik held one of her pulse pistols against Jeleen's temple, where Winona had rested only a few moments before.  He saw her lean over and whisper something, and if he read her lips correctly, it was something along the lines of, "Just give me an excuse."

Dad and D'Argo were near the wagon, arguing, as usual.  Dad was holding the reins, previously attached to wagon, in his hand.  Both had obviously been tied together to make a long rope.  The animal they'd been pulled from stood obediently next to the wagon, watching the two men with interest and obviously knowing that to run away would not be smart.

Wait.  The beast wasn't moving.  Even through the attack, it had stayed in place, not even trying to pull on the reins.  "Dad!" Aeric called loudly, interrupting the two men as he pulled out of the Nebari's arms.

"In a minute, Aeric," Dad called back before returning to his argument.  "I don't care if it IS your Qualta Blade, _I'm_ going after her."

"John, be sensible.  You do not have the strength, or the skill to use this weapon."

"Dad," Aeric tried again.

"Not NOW Aeric!" his father yelled.  "Fine, D'Argo, we'll do it this way.  I'll go out, get his attention and then bring him to you.  Slice and dice, his head is gone, we get Aeryn out."

"You're insane!" Jeleen yelled in dismay.  "You'll never survive!"

"If I had a nickel, for every time someone said that to me," his father mumbled as he removed his coat and tied one end of the reins around his waist, throwing the other end to Chiana.

"We could all retire in wealth," D'Argo finished for him.  "Chiana, are you ready?"

She tied her end around her waist and braced herself against the wagon.  "As ready as I'm gonna get."

"All right, John.  Do not go too far out." D'Argo warned.

"NO!" Jeleen cried.  "Don't do this!"  She tried to lunge forward, but Brennik's patience had expired and she hit Jeleen over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking her unconscious to the ground.  Sethya would've been proud.

"Despite what I said earlier, we DO need her, Bren.  Don't cause any permanent damage."

"Dad, that's what…" Aeric tried.

"Later, Aeric," Dad interrupted, stoically heading out in the same direction the wyrm had disappeared, determination in every step.  "HEEEEERE WYRMY, WYRMY, WYRMY!" he called loudly, waving his arms and jumping around.  "Come and get me!" The ground remained stable and there was no signal of the return of the translucent beast.  

"Ooo, you're big and bad enough to swallow a PREGNANT woman, but you're scared of someone who could REALLY take you on, aren't you?"  He stomped on the ground several times, as if trying to wake the beast with the unheard noise of his boot-steps hitting the sand.  Still, the wyrm remained hidden.

"Try peeing," Chiana yelled.  "He liked Aeryn's well enough."

Dad turned and gave Chiana a "get real" look, but he could tell his father was getting desperate.  Mom might be able to survive inside that wyrm, but she was encased in a vat of stomach acid, and the clock was ticking.

_Oh. My. Gosh…_ was the only thing Brennik could think when her father turned away from the group.  A soft zipping sound preceded the sight of a yellow stream being shot out into the air.

"COME AND GET IT YOU BASTARD!" John yelled.

Only the Crichtons could ever find themselves in this situation.  Only the Crichtons would ever resort to these measures to fix things.  Her mind flashed briefly to her life on the farm, and the old, used up farmer that had been her father.  The difference was polar opposite to what he was now, and she was terrified that he would be totally lost, if he ever had to live without her mother again.

_No._  That was not an option.  They _were_ going to get her mother out.  They _would save her.  Anything less was unacceptable.  A low rumbling began to emanate from deep in the ground._

Her father wasted a few precious seconds zipping his pants, the noise growing louder, the earth beginning to shake.  "RUN JOHN!" Chiana yelled, realizing with the rest of the group that he had managed to go farther out than he should have.

"RUN!" everyone yelled, needlessly as he was already sprinting for the wagon.  His legs and arms pumping, he'd made it halfway to the safe zone when the rumbling and shaking of the ground tripped him, bringing him hard down on his face.

Chiana began pulling frantically on the rope and Aeric and Brennik, stumbling, hurried to join her in the effort.  Their combined strength had him sailing through the soft sand at a high speed, but it still wasn't fast enough.  D'Argo began to stumble out to his friend with his Qualta Blade drawn and a warrior's call that was loud enough to be heard over the rumbling.

He thought he would make it.  All he had to do was run a few motras to D'Argo, and let the man chop off this thing's head.  But the ground began to shake worse, his feet flew out from under him, and he landed on his face so hard, he was afraid his nose was going to start bleeding.  He tried to stand up, but the wind was also knocked from his lungs, and every time he tried to refill them, the sand tried to follow.

Not that he had been given any time to get on his feet.  It seemed that the second he'd hit the ground, he'd felt himself sliding in the dirt, the rope around his waist cinched so tightly, he knew he was going to have a nasty welt… if he managed to live through this latest stunt.  He reached up and grabbed the rope, trying to minimize the damage, but it was only helping a little.

He was infinitely grateful for his leather pants, though.  The burn from the ride through the sand would have been a killer.  All he could see was dirt flying in his face, his mouth was filling with the sand and something _had_ to change.  There was no way he was going to be able to stand; he was being dragged to quickly.  (How were they managing that so smoothly, anyway?)

The only option left was to try to turn over.  Still holding onto the rope, he kicked his feet and twisted his hips, using his momentum to propel himself onto his back.  Big mistake.  He vaguely heard D'Argo's warrior call approaching, but before he could concentrate on the sound, a volcano of sand erupted at his feet, causing an explosion of dirt that flew in every direction.

The wyrm shot from within the chaos, climbing into the air, rising higher and higher.  John caught a glimpse of Aeryn, still struggling, about halfway down its digestive track.  The wrym reached its pinnacle and turned its face to him as it fluidly dove downward, straight for his body, its scream loud and consuming.  _Pull faster, pull faster!_

Time seemed to slow down and he was able to process every tiny detail of the next five seconds as if it were five hundred.  D'Argo's voice mingled with the wyrm's, and the two screams melded together, the two nearly harmonizing.  The wyrm's mouth was wide open, ready to engorge itself on desert.  It descended closer, faster than he was moving, faster than his family was able to pull.

Closer… closer… screaming louder, faster.  And then it was on him.  It plunged its final dive and he saw the wrym's mouth cover him on all directions, closing beneath him and scooping him off the ground.  He felt the weight of the rope around his waist grow tighter, and he prayed for Chiana and the others to just let go.

He was only six motras from Aeryn.  If this thing swallowed, he could reach her.  He was almost there.  He reached out to her outstretched arms, calling to her, trying to tell her that he was here and they would get through this together.  He hadn't been swallowed yet, though.  He was still in the monster's mouth, and he was too far away to reach her.  He hadn't even been covered by the clear goo yet.

_Hold on, baby, I'm coming for you._

Something grey passed in front of him, a soft swishing sound accompanying the object, and he felt the weightlessness of freefall.  He landed hard, the wind knocked from him once again, but he was free of the wyrm.  Well, technically, he was still sitting inside the wyrm's mouth, but daylight was before him, the convulsing remains of the wyrm's head collapsing on top of him.

He crawled out to find the bottom portion of the wyrm lying nearby.  D'Argo was running to it, his Qualta Blade dripping with clear goo, wyrm guts splattered over his face and chest.  He reached the convulsing piece the same as his friend, and both dropped to their knees to look into the gelatinous mess.

Aeryn was desperately trying to climb forward, but her time spent inside the digestive jelly must have made it nearly impossible; she was barely progressing.  "Grab my feet," he instructed before pulling in a long breath and holding it.  He felt D'Argo's hands encase his ankles and he crawled forward, into the clear Jell-O.

Moving was difficult, but he forced his arms to dredge onward, his legs stretched out behind him, until at last he was within reach.  She looked up at him, love and gratitude in her eyes, and grasped his outstretched wrist, locking them together in a death grip.

D'Argo must have been able to see the connection, because no sooner had their hold become secure than his friend started to pull them out.  For the second time in less than five minutes he found himself being dragged, but this time was less pleasant.  He desperately needed to breathe, and he wasn't sure if he was going to make it out of this cadaverous tomb without a lungful of stomach jelly.

His chest began to burn and tiny pinpricks of light invaded his vision, distorting his view of Aeryn.  He wasn't going to make it.  Violently, the air rushed from his lungs, causing a myriad of air bubbles to spray outward, over Aeryn's head, disappearing in the pressure of ooze.

He tried to keep himself from breathing in, he screamed silently at himself to wait a few seconds longer, but it was no use.  His chest expanded of its own volition, and his lungs willingly and desperately followed the example.  In one giant heave, his lungs greedily filled with warm, dusty air.

Thank whatever deity had managed to watch over him right them, but D'Argo had managed to pull his head free just at the moment he was going to receive a lungful of gelatinous goo.

He opened his eyes and looked through the layer of jell still covering them to see Aeryn's hands emerge with his own.  A loud sucking noise reverberated throughout the dunes as she slowly emerged.  D'Argo was straining to pull them free and, and he realized that the pressure had increased, the goo holding tightly to its dinner.

It was as if, even in death, the wyrm was fighting for its meal, refusing to admit defeat or give up.  He held tighter and he knew that she was going to have some nasty bruises when this was all over.

Her head emerged, her shoulders, her waist.  She began twisting, struggling, and he almost yelled to her to stop when he realized what her problem was.  "D'Argo, turn us to the side!" he yelled, hoping the Luxan wouldn't question why, and simply do it.

Twenty-eight cycles of brotherhood paid off and, without question, his friend did as asked, maneuvering them sideways at the last moment.  D'Argo heaved one last time and she sprang from her prison with a loud *POP*, landing both of them in the dirt.  The air was knocked from his lungs, again, for the millionth time that day, but he scrambled to his hands and knees and crawled to Aeryn's side.

She tried to get up, but all her energy had been spent, and she lay there, helpless as she choked and gagged, desperately trying to get air into her already filled lungs.  He helped her to her knees and she fell forward, catching herself with her hands.  Her shoulders shook and her rounded stomach began to convulse.

With a muddy hand, he slicked her hair back from her face and held it out of the way.  There was no part of her, no crevice, nook or cranny that was not covered or filled with the sticky, clinging goo.  The dirt mixed with the stomach gel, forming a sticky paste that covered her left side and any part of her body that had contact with the dune beneath her.

She began to retch, and clear liquid poured from her mouth, landing in the dirt between her quivering hands.  A small puddle grew larger and larger as he emptied first the contents of her stomach and then her lungs.  At least, he hoped her lungs would clear.

She'd already drowned once.  He didn't want to watch that again.

Her elbows buckled and he caught her shoulders in his arms, holding her high enough to ensure she didn't fall, face first into the pool collecting beneath her.  Vaguely he registered noise far behind him, yelling and screaming, but all of his concentration was on Aeryn, making sure she was getting everything from that wyrm out of her system.  Retching, gagging, choking, convulsing, the liquid continued to pour from her.

The noise ended about the same time everything from her was spent, and a quiet descended, only a slight howl of wind swirling dust around them created any noise.  Her entire body shook gently, and she fell backward into his arms, letting him hold her.  Both of them were covered in mud and clear Jello-O, and everywhere they touched, they created a soft squishing noise.

Her eyes closed and she let her head fall backward against his shoulder with a light *splatt*. She was safe, in his arms.  Her entire body was pink and slightly swollen; raw from being digested in stomach acid.  It looked as if the wyrm had only been able to process the first layer or two of skin.

"We have to get you out of here," he whispered into her ear.  "We have to get this crap off you."

She shook her head slightly.  "The burning has stopped," she rasped, her voice still watery.  "I think the air stopped the effectiveness.  We have to keep going."  Her breath was labored, but she was insistent.  "We're not far from the castle.  I saw it when he resurfaced once, just before he went after you."

"John, Aeryn," D'Argo called to them, interrupting their quiet moment.  "We have a problem."

Brennik stood beside Chiana in shocked horror.  The moment had played out so quickly, she was still trying to reconstruct in her mind what had happened.  She and Aeric had been standing beside Chiana, watching their mother gasp and vomit into the dirt, being held by their father.  They were desperate to run to her, but knew it would only make things difficult, and their father had everything under control.  Besides, D'Argo was standing nearby to assist them, if need be.

Then, as her father would have said, all hell broke loose.  A vicious, animalistic snarl sounded behind her.  She was knocked down by Jeleen, with teeth bared and a dagger in her fist, running past them, straight for her parents.  Her blue curly hair flew out behind her as she ran, flying like a wild mane in the wind, with a low guttural growl escaping past bared teeth.

Brennik hit the wagon in the fall, her elbow smashing against the edge, and landed on the wrist of the other arm, twisting it into an unnatural position.  Both arms were incapacitated and she couldn't even pull herself to sit up.  Aeric saw her problem and, without hesitation, jumped to her side and pulled one of her pulse pistols from her thigh.

In one fluid motion he raised the pistol, grasping it with both hands, and began firing at Jeleen as she ran for his mother.  He missed, adjusted his aim, fired again, adjusted, fired again, trailing behind the running woman.

Chiana, still tied to the rope, couldn't reach her pulse rifle.  She began desperately clawing at the knot, but with the weight it had been forced to support, it was impossible to undo.  D'Argo turned to see the ruckus and started to run to intercept Jeleen, not wanting to take the time to transform his Qualta Blade back into a pulse weapon.

Before he could reach her, Aeric's shot found its mark.  A yellow bolt of light exploded against her back, throwing her forward into the sand.  She landed so hard, her entire face was buried and sticky yellow blood oozed from the charred wound.  She twitched slightly, her limbs jolting with each small spasm, until finally her body lay still.

Deathly silence descended over the entire group.  The only sound for metras was the low hum of wind picking up layers of sand and redistributing it randomly in the wasteland.  Everyone stared at the body, the yellow blood as it seeped into the dirt.  There lay the corpse of the only woman who could lead them through the Wyrmland.

"John," D'Argo called, not taking his eyes from the body.  "We have a problem."

_Frell!  Frell, frell, frell, frell, frell, frell, frell!_  She was cut in half, in the middle of a wasteland of dirt, by a frelling rope tied around her waist.  She could barely breathe, she was scared drenless that her two closest friends had been swallowed by a giant Wyrm, and now she was torn between anger and sympathy for a boy who was just trying to help.

That stinking trelk was bleeding all over this desert, and there was no way she'd survived that blast.  She had to admit- it was a good shot.  But Aeric stood there, pistol still raised, no readable expression on his face.  Usually, she could tell exactly what the boy was thinking or feeling.  He expressed in emotions in his eyes, the same as his father.

But right now they were blank.  His hands were shaking slightly, but there was no other sign of what he was experiencing, having killed someone for the first time.  The sad irony that it was Aeric, the pacifist of Moya, who was the one to finally kill Jeleen was not lost on Chiana.  She remembered another time when someone else had told her that she didn't believe in violence, and she'd responded with the statement that she would learn.

Everyone on Moya eventually learned.

Chiana tried to put an arm around his shoulders, but he shook it off.  He was being ungrateful, but he just didn't want anything touching him right now.  He should be feeling _something, anything.  He should be angry, he should be remorseful, and he should be elated that the trelk was dead.  But he felt nothing.  He was numb, anesthetized and he felt an odd curiosity about the body lying in the dirt and the yellow blood that was oozing from her.  What kind of monster was he?_

He looked up across the distance to meet his father's gaze.  Even from here he saw the concern, the sympathy, in the older man's eyes.  It was sympathy that he apparently didn't need.  He glanced at D'Argo and saw the same expression; a mixture of concern, pity, sympathy and anger and frustration over the death of Jeleen.

He tossed the pistol into Brennik's lap and turned away from the adults staring at him, reaching for the pack animal that was still waiting calmly beside the wagon.  "There is no problem," he stated clearly, his voice traveling in the stillness of the afternoon desert.

He grabbed two fistfuls of hair and adeptly swung onto the tired beast's back.  If there was one thing he learned as a slave to farmers, it was how to work a pack animal.  "It never was Jeleen that knew the way."  He looked over to his father, still sitting in the dirt, holding his mother.  "It was the beast."

It was a sorry looking group, arriving at the castle.  They approached slowly, more from exhaustion than caution.  John, Aeryn and D'Argo were covered in sticky, pasty mud and wyrm guts.  Their hair was matted, ugly bruises beginning to form on Aeryn's wrists.  Brennik's wrist was swollen and an ugly red and purple, her hand incapacitated.  Her other arm hung at her side, only usable with extreme effort.  Chiana was the only one apparently unhurt, but her breathing was labored and when D'Argo had checked under her top, a grey bruise circled her waist.

All of the adults rode in the back of the wagon, draped over each other, looking like dirty refugees from a war front.  Aeric rode on the high seat in the front, letting the beast lead by using the control techniques he'd watched Jeleen execute.

They were about a hundred yards from the castle, when John heard what sounded like trumpets blaring.  The wagon stopped and everyone eyed the castle warily, unsure if the fanfare was for them or not.  A large door descended and chariots emerged, carrying armored soldiers wearing feathered helmets.

A sigh sounded from the weary group as they each picked themselves up and pulled their weapons into their hands, getting ready for whatever would happen.  Twenty armed soldiers in five chariots rode toward them until their wagon was surrounded.

"Halt!" one soldier wearing a purple feather yelled to his subordinates.  At least, John assumed it was for the other soldiers, since the rag tag group in the wagon wasn't moving anywhere.  "Everyone, out of the cart.  You and all your property are hereby seized in the name of The Elected, Netrijon."

He couldn't take it anymore.  Too much crap had happened in the last hour, for him to sit around and let an idiot in a feather carry on like this.  John stood pointing a finger at the soldier in charge, anger glaring in his gaze.  "Try it and you'll end up like the wrym and that trelk Jeleen.  We have had one hellacious morning and I am NOT in the mood for this dren!  So get your boss out here…"

He didn't realize that the moment he started talking, the guard's eyes grew big, and he was so busy ranting he missed the gasp of horror that emanated through the crowd of soldiers.  One by one, they fell to one knee, each bowing their head.  When he finally realized what was happened, his rant petered out and he stood there looking at the small crowd of colored feathers pointing at his face.

"We are humbly sorry, Sir," the soldier spokesman said when it became apparent John was finished, "for any inconvenience you may have experienced.  I assure that The Elected has been looking forward to this day, and had he known of your arrival, all consideration would have been made for your comfort.  Please allow us to escort you the rest of the way."

Ok, now he was just confused.  He looked at the others from the corner of his eye and saw they were all as clueless as he was.  He shrugged slightly and faced the soldier once again.  "This is the way it should have been from the start!" he declared, throwing authority behind his voice for good measure, standing tall and trying to look dignified.  It was difficult, being sore and covered in mud and wyrm guts, but the bravado seemed to impress the soldier.

"Yes, Emperor Thasnoidian," the guard placated.  "All of your needs will be seen to within the castle walls.  Please follow us."

The guards continued to surround the wagon as they guided the group in, and everyone remained quiet and confused, in unspoken agreement to follow along and see where this would lead.

Brennik lay in her bed, staring at the ornate ceiling, listening to the waves below crash against the rocks.  Had she known that Sethya had been in this room, sat in the chair at the end of her bed, it might have brought her a touch of comfort.  But she didn't know that, and she was beyond comfort tonight.  Her mind drifted back to their arrival, and the events that led her to her current state of depression.

When they had arrived at the front doors of the castle, the soldiers showed a wealth of compassion for the tired crew and assisted them from their wagon with the greatest care, treating them as if they were royalty; which evidently they were.  They kept referring to Dad as Emperor Thasnoidian, and once they figured out which female was his mate, they called Mom, Empress and Your Highness.

And when they discovered she was with child, they became even more solicitous, almost incurring the wrath of both her parents with too much hovering.  It would have been funny, if it hadn't been so scary.

They had been led inside by a servant wearing a massive head-piece made of colorful flowers that fanned from his head.  He'd shown them to their rooms, all in the same hallway.  Both Brennik and Aeric had been given their own rooms, Dad and Mom sharing, D'Argo and Chiana sharing.  All four rooms were opulent, to match the ornate hallways.

They had been left with instructions that they would be led to dinner, and to stay in this hall until collected.  A healer was sent for and everyone was bathed, treated for their injuries and told there would be no permanent damage.  The baby had not been harmed, Chiana's bruise would clear up after a few days, and Brennik's broken wrist and fractured elbow were spliced back together within a few hundred microts under some hand-held machine she didn't recognize.

Two arns after being shown to their rooms, they were collected by a servant and led to massive dining hall, where they were fed large plates of colorful food that no one could recognize.  It had been good food, though, and the crew ate with the enthusiasm only those who had missed a couple of meals could appreciate.

They still had yet to meet Netrijon.  They'd been told he had been visiting the mines on official business, but as soon as he'd heard of their arrival, he left his tour and journeyed back to headquarters.  He would be with them shortly.

When their dinners were complete, they were led to a large room that seemed as if it were intended for court, as a large throne sat high on a platform at one end.  They had only been there for a few hundred microts, trying to mingle with the large crowd without being separated, when a sick Keedva blared a call throughout the room.  Brennik, and everyone she was with, pulled their weapons, scanning for the danger.

The crowd gasped, soldiers surrounding the room instantly had every weapon trained on them and to their embarrassment, a feather clad horn man choked on his instrument, the announcing call dying an agonizing death.  Netrijon swept in to the room, arms spread wide to complete silence and a standoff between his guards and his new guests.

His grand entrance had been ruined.  The look on his face told the crew that he was not impressed.

He recovered quickly, though, his smile warm and welcoming as he glided across the room in his teal blue pantaloons and white ruffled shirt.  Brennik had never seen a man wear heeled shoes before, especially one in heeled shoes with pink bows to match his stockings.

She could just imagine what Sethya had thought of this guy.  What was her father's term?  Fruit loop.  It seemed like a very apt description.  She'd have loved to have been here when Sethya saw this guy for the first time.  She bet the look on his face must have been worth a thousand crindars.

D'Argo lowered his Qualta blade, and everyone else followed his example, including the soldiers on guard duty around the room.  "Isn't this so much nicer?  Welcome, Emperor Thasniodian!  Welcome to my humble business!"  The Elected bowed deep at the waist in her father's direction.  "I am honored that a man with a great empire such as yours would take the time to visit my establishment."

He bowed to her mother and continued his speech.  "Empress Thasniodian, I hope you have received your mentor in good health?  You must have traveled very quickly; it has only been two weekens since your representative, Sethya Miskhaal, was here last."

"No," her other stated, much to the shock of everyone in the room.  "I did not."

"What was that?" the elected asked, clearly taken aback.  A light twitch began in the corner of his right eye, and Brennik found herself distracted by it, unable to take her eyes away.

"No, I did not receive my mentor.  Miskhaal was en route home, when he was ambushed by two of YOUR slaving vessels.  We are here for his, my mentor's, and their escorts, safe return."

Brennik had pulled her gaze from Netrijon during her mother's fabrication and was now staring at her.  Her father was eyeing her with pride.  The lie was rolling off her tongue with absolute earnestness and she was playing her role with complete conviction.  At this moment she was an angry Queen, determined to have her own way.  Dad had said she was a bad liar, but somewhere along the way, she learned the art.  She was _almost_ as good as Chiana.

Netrijon lost all color in his face and he raised a hand high above his head, snapping loudly.  "I assure you both, if my recruiters have mistakenly indoctrinated your people, full restitution will be made.  Miskhaal, and his charge, were very accommodating during their stay."

Her father stepped forward, ensuring the eyes of Netrijon were on him.  "Well, you see Sigfreid, Miskhaal was more than just my _representative_.  He was taking extra security precautions and didn't tell you who he really was."  She didn't think it was possible, but even more color drained from Netrijon's face.  "He is married to my daughter, the heir to my throne, which makes him Prince Regent, and I will not be happy if my daughter has been turned into a widow before she bears an heir."

Both her parents were taking very big risks.  At first, she thought that this was just a case of mistaken identity and that her parents were taking advantage of the situation.  But Netrijon had just confirmed that he knew Sethya was connected to this crew.

What had Sethya done the last time he was here?  What had he told this company about the crew of Moya?  He had obviously impressed this creep, and impressed on him the danger of messing with this group.  He'd also told several grandiose lies as well.  What she couldn't believe, was that a businessman as controlling as The Elected seemed to actually _believe the lies._

But her parents were using the groundwork already laid, and making things up as they went.  She hoped they knew what they were doing.

A servant appeared with a square, thin monitor, and Netrijon immediately starting playing with the screen, looking through menu after menu.  "Sethya is not employed at my mines, nor is he in transport," he reported, still looking at the monitor and scrolling through various screens.  He continued to work for several hundred microts before he seemed satisfied.  "All of my active recruitment vehicles have reported in, and neither your Prince, nor the Empress's mentor, is among them."

"The last transmission received showed them being targeted by two Jivihsten Company ships, and I am getting tired of waiting."  As her father spoke, his voice became harder, more ruthless, more powerful, and his control seemed to be barely held in check.  "I have a ship, orbiting your planet right now.  And as thorough as your data appears to be, I'm sure it will confirm that my ship is capable of blowing holes in your mines so big, the entire planet will look like Swiss Cheese… and don't think I haven't done this before."  His eyes were narrowed and he'd stepped close the The Elected, ignoring the weapons the guards lifted.  "Find them."

The Elected cleared his throat, but didn't step back, and met her Father's gaze unflinchingly.  "There are two inactive ships that were lost five solar days ago.  My men have been searching and believe they will have the ships back within custody by daybreak.  Perhaps the answers to this mystery will be forthcoming with their recovery."

"I want access to all information regarding the ships when you get them."

"You will be supplied with all information that is pertinent.  Now, I understand it has been a trying day for you and your family.  I apologize for Jeleen's behavior, and I assure you that, had she lived, she would have been disciplined severely.  You were merciful, letting her die in her beloved desert, among her wyrms.  I would suggest rest and relaxation and my men will inform you the moment any news has been reported."

No one looked happy, but it was the best bargain they were going to get.  So far, this man had shown incredible patience after being threatened in his own home.  Who knew how long his hospitality would last?  A servant stepped forward, removing the hand monitor, and another motioned for the crew to follow her.

As they stepped away, Netrijon waved to her father and he stepped back to speak privately.  She wasn't sure exactly what had been said, but she caught Netrijon asking about who trained the Emperor's concubines.  There was a decidedly eerie look on the man's faced as he asked.

She shuddered and followed the group from the room.

So here she lay, staring at the moonlit ceiling, the waves crashing far below, no closer to Sethya than she was before finding the transmission.  There would be no sleep for her tonight.  Maybe she should go get Aeric to play a game of Chess with her, he was always willing.  No.  That would mean getting up and getting dressed, and right now that was too much effort.

_He was hovering on his skateboard, about half a motra off the ground.  It was as liberating as flying the module.  No.  It was more so because he wasn't surrounded by metal.  He was free of walls and machinery._

_Pushing with his foot, he flew forward, faster than his wheels ever let him go.  Around the halls of Moya he skated, taking turns expertly at speeds his mother would have a fit over if she knew.  He loved this.  He was free, he was away._

_"Help!" cried over the comms and he stopped at the sound of Brennik's voice.  "Help me!"_

_"Brennik, where are you?" he asked, looking around for the first time, realizing he had no clue where he was._

_"I'm in my room!  Help me!"_

_"Brennik, what's wrong?" he asked, trying to head back the way he came, but all of the halls looked familiar and he couldn't tell if he was going in circles, going the wrong way, or making any progress at all._

_"Pilot, where am I?" he asked desperately, hoping for directions, but the comms remained silent.  He looked for a DRD but the corridors were empty.  "Brennik, hold on, I'm coming for you!"_

_"It's too late," a silky voice spoke from behind him.  He turned around to see Jeleen, standing in the hall smiling sweetly.  Her blue curls circled her face, her red lips parted slightly, invitingly._

_"What have you done with them?" he demanded._

_"Oh, please, Aeric.  You know you don't care about them.  You have your skateboard.  You have… me.  I can make you happy, Aeric."  Her green eyes held his captive and he found he couldn't look away.  "Not like that brat your mother was going to bare.  Ever since you came to Moya, she hasn't had time for you, has she?  Not like it used to be, anyway.  Remember, when it was just the two of you?  Remember when she didn't carry pistols around all the time, or insist on making you shoot? It could be like that again, Aeric, just the two of us."_

_A light glinted, and in her hand held at her side, he saw a long, thick knife.  The handle was jewel encrusted; the metal sleek and covered in blue liquid.  Gradually, the liquid pooled at the tip, forming a ball before slowly… slowly… dripping to the floor.  Chiana's blood._

_"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER, YOU TRELK!" he screamed, skating for her with all his strength.  The harder he pushed, the faster his board went, but she stayed the same distance away._

_She smiled and giggled slightly.  "Oh, please, Aeric.  You know you'll be happier."_

_The next drop to fall was a deep burgundy.  D'Argo's blood.  Harder he pushed, faster he flew._

_A bright red drip fell to the floor.  Dad's blood._

_Tears streamed down his face and he pulled __Winona_ from his thigh and aimed, shooting at the small seductress standing before him.  The light traveled through her, to the wall behind, impotent in its power.__

_A light red drop slowly fell.  Brennik's blood._

_"NO YOU TRELK!" he screamed, pulling D'Argo's Qualta blade from his back, hurling it with all the strength his arms would throw.  It sailed past her, landing in the wall of Moya, imbedding itself into his one friend he had left.  The ship moaned and he apologized in his heart, hoping she could hear him._

_A deep red drop pooled at the tip, fighting to stay on the blade.  But gravity finally won the fight, forcing it to cascade to the floor, a clear drop following closely.  Mother and the baby._

_"NOOOOOOO!" he screamed, jumping from the skateboard and running toward Jeleen, still standing before him, smiling sweetly.  Everyone's blood covered his hands, the mixture of colors splattered on his shirt._

_He ran, legs pumping, arms swinging, just as his father had in the desert.  Finally, he made progress, reaching Jeleen and grabbing her by the shoulders, throwing her against the wall, screaming the entire time._

_Her head snapped and the arrogance disappeared from her eyes.  He'd killed her.  Her head fell forward and yellow blood gathered on his hands, climbing upward until it covered his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his neck… his face.  It seeped into his mouth, salty and slick, and covered his hair, stinging his eyes._

_Still he screamed, trying desperately to wipe the blood away, hoping that if he could make it disappear, all the bad things would disappear with it.  The more he wiped, the thicker the blood pooled and he was afraid he was going to drown._

_Her lifeless hands reached up and began to shake him, and he knew this was the end.  He would pay for his selfishness, his apathy; he would pay for his crime of murder._

"Aeric!" _a familiar voice called, pulling him from his desperation._

_"You're DEAD!" he shouted to the spectre of his mother._

"No, I'm not, Aeric, I'm here; I'm fine.  I'm alive."

Warm arms surrounded him and he began to cry.  Heart-wrenching sobs tore throughout his body, the pain of the convulsion equal to the agony of the two hands squeezing his heart.  His lungs burned and he could barely draw in breath, when the hitching allowed him to try.

His mother was in his bed, and pulled him into her lap; her belly, the baby, his brother or sister, pushing into his side, almost as if they were trying to comfort him as well.  She combed his hair with long fingers, rubbed his back with a gentle hand.  His tears and snot soaked her shirt, but she continued to hold him, rocking him.  She didn't speak, but mumbled incoherently, occasionally kissing his head.  She let him cry, and when he ran out of tears, she continued to hold him as his body stilled convulsed, still choked him, still burned with shame and anger and desperation.

He never knew when he finally fell asleep again, and when he awoke, his mother was gone.  But he still felt her long fingers caressing his hair, her soft lips on his forehead.  The raw agony of the night before had subsided slightly, replaced by a heavy weight that settled in the pit of his stomach.

It would be a very long time before that weight was gone, if it ever left.  Throwing off the covers he began to dress.  There had to have been more news by now, and his family needed him.

John's heart sank to his stomach as he stared at the screen before him.  Netrijon had been true to his word and retrieved John when the soldiers reported in, and now he sat in The Elected's private business chamber, looking at the intel report.

It was bad.  The two ships had been overtaken by mercenaries, and had been taken on a week long raiding binge.  The mercenaries belonged to a company that worked for a man named Klune, and upon questioning, had offered the location of the headquarters of their business.

They'd apprehended Sethya, Laighn and Tean, delivered them to Klune himself and knew nothing of what happened from there.

Netrijon stood next to John, watching his reactions.  "The men of Klune are infamous in this area," he said with calculation in his eyes.  "They are also very expensive to hire."  The implication was left to hang in the air, but John refused to give the man any indication of the truth.

"We are heading out within the arn," he responded, turning off the monitor.  "I need transportation out of your compound, and we'll handle our arrangements from there."

The Elected gestured to an unseen servant, and the door was slammed shut and locked.  John had been relieved of his weapon upon entry to the chambers and was left weaponless.  "No," he said, as a soldier stepped forward, a long scepter in hand.  "I don't believe that will happen."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Old Haunts; Book 2, chapter 3

Author: Auna

Rating: PG-13, 'cause I'm very conservative

Credits: scrubschick, shipsister and ScaperRed.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  You guys always keep me from embarrassing myself.  Sanchez is a wonderful creative consultant and you guys wouldn't get half the story you do without him.

Author's Note: This is shorter than my average chapter.  But I reached this point and I thought I should stop.  But it was too short and I didn't stop and wrote four more pages.  But upon further reflection, I realized it wasn't right, so the adds were saved for later and you're getting a short chapter.  (It was a tough decision; there are some really fun moments I wanted to give you guys NOW.  But, as ScaperRed and I have said, I am only the scribe and I bow to the story and the characters.)

****************************************************************************

John quietly slipped into the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click.  The morning light was just starting to shine through the glass wall across from him, casting a soft glow throughout the room, making the moment almost surreal.  Aeryn lay in bed, finally asleep, breathing deeply with her mouth slightly open.  She was on her side, her hair a tangled mess around her face and neck.

His throat constricted and he was content to stand and watch her for a moment.  She'd been gone most of the night, and he had missed her weight as she used him for a pillow and the lump of her belly in his side.  Softly, his steps muted by the thick carpet beneath his boots, he stepped to the bed, to Aeryn's side and knelt beside her.

He needed to wake her up; they were due to leave in half an arn.  It had been a grueling half arn of negotiations to get him out of that room, away from Netrijon, and the schedule really needed to be adhered to.  But he was reluctant to disturb her.  She hadn't slept almost all night, as she held Aeric in her arms and comforted him.  He'd gone with her when they'd heard the screams, and he'd watched for a while as she soothed their boy to sleep again.  But it was a moment meant for Aeryn and Aeric, and he'd gone back to bed, alone.

He watched her sleep now, fascinated by a strand of hair playing in her breath.  When she breathed in, the hair was caught against her lips, held captive by the current.  When she breathed out, it flew wildly, dancing in the wind.  He smiled.  Not much about Aeryn could be described as playful.

He reached out a hand and pulled the hair aside, gently smoothing the long, brown and gray strands into a fan behind her head.  Now he could see the dark circles beneath her eyes and he reached out a finger and caressed the evidence of her fatigue, before shifting closer and kissing each eye softly.

Her eyelids fluttered open and, drowsily, she looked at him, only a few inches away.  Her lips curved into a smile and he felt his stomach flop.  "Hey," he said so softly that he barely heard the whispered word himself.

"Hey," she returned, just as softly. There was magic in the room at that moment, and neither of them wanted to chase it away.

His chin rested on his left forearm on the bed, his right hand twirling her hair through his fingers.  "How are you?"  He needed to get to business, needed to tell her everything that had already occurred that morning, but he couldn't help but revel a few minutes in the peace.

"I'm fine," she started, but saw the look on his face and stopped.  "I'm hungry and my shoulders hurt, and the baby is kicking a lot."

He lifted his chin from his arm and reached out, caressing her stomach.  It only took a second before he felt the punch beneath his palm, and he couldn't stop the smile from escaping.  He felt like a little boy who'd been handed the best present at Christmas.

He looked back at her, and his smile faded slightly.  She was smirking at him, enjoying his pleasure over the baby.  But there was sadness there as well.  "How is Aeric?" he asked.

Her eyes slightly pooled with tears, but to her credit, none escaped.  "He has a lot to deal with.  He reminds me of you, and when you first got here."

He nodded, not sure what to say.  Everyone had commented on their similarities, both physically and personality-wise.  He just prayed that his son would never have to experience everything he had.  He was already feeling guilty that Aeric had to learn a lesson he should never have had to.  He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, giving and drawing strength with the contact.

"You are already dressed, which means you've been to see Netrijon," Aeryn finally said, pulling back slightly to meet his eyes.  "What did he have to say?"

John sighed, knowing that it was time, but reluctant to let go the moment.  "Some group of mercenaries stole their ships.  He has the location of the business and is making all the arrangements for us to leave his planet as peacefully as possible."

"Just get us out of his compound, we can handle it from there."

"That's what I told him," John said.  "It didn't fly.  I don't know what Sethya told this guy, or how he even recognizes me as this supposed emperor, but whatever information he has must make me out to be Attilla the Hun or something.  He was falling over himself to retrieve our ships from the township, escort us with fanfare to our ship, the works.  I nearly had to threaten a war to get him to back off."

He didn't tell her that originally, when the doors had slammed shut and the soldier had stepped forward, he thought The Elected had figured out they were all frauds and the game was up.  What he wasn't prepared for, was the businessman to try to negotiate an alliance, and send his own soldiers with them.  He felt that his reputation had been smeared, and that by attacking Klune, he would show his clients that he would not tolerate such behavior.

John had to whip up some long-unused negotiating skills, and talk him down to keep him from tagging along.  He missed Rygel at that point.  The little slug had some useful skills occasionally.

"How long until we leave?" she asked.

"About a quarter arn."

"All right," she said, heaving herself up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.  John had to duck out of the way, to keep from being kicked.  "I need to get moving then."  She paused, her face losing color and she lifted a hand to her mouth.  Knowing what to do, John jumped to his feet and grabbed a bowl of fruit on a table next to the bed.

Dumping the contents onto the floor he threw the bowl under her face, just in time for her to heave.  She hadn't eaten since dinner the previous night, and there was nothing left to bring up but water.  Soon, that was exhausted and she was dry heaving.  She held onto the bowl, as if it were a security blanket, her arms wrapped around the base.

He had gotten a drying cloth from their bathroom and soaked it in cool water, returning to her and wiping her face.  He could be useful at times.

"I sat up too fast," she said miserably.

"I know."

"And now we'll be late."

"We're fine," he lied, knowing everyone was going to be waiting for them.  By everyone, he meant the entire company of soldiers that were waiting to escort them from the compound in grandeur, as they left to go fight a heroic battle in the name of Netrijon and Thasnoidian.

Screw them.  The Empress was throwing up, and the Emperor staying here with her.  The minions could wait.

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Where the hezmana were they?  She was getting frustrated and angry over this whole waste of time, and she was pacing on the platform near the exit.  She was with Aeric, Brennik, and D'Argo, all on display before an entire contingent of Jivihsten soldiers waiting to escort them from this compound and through the Wyrmlands to safety.  They were to ride on ornamental chariots in a blaze of horns that would have made John's earth buglers envious.

If her son wasn't missing, it would have been fun.  But he _was_ missing.  And Aeryn and John were taking their time showing up so they could get off this frelling planet.  For the millionth time, she stopped and looked toward the entrance.  "What time is it?" she asked.

"Thirty microts since the last time you asked," D'Argo said.  "They'll be here."

Brennik was standing still, arms crossed, feet braced apart, staring into the crowd of decorative men all arranged neatly in precise rows.  She was wearing a light brown t-shirt and her brown leather pants, the monotony broken by the black of her boots and gun-belt that hugged her waist and thighs.  Her short hair was wild, a clump hanging over the bridge of her nose between her eyes.  She looked as frustrated as Chiana felt.

Aeric was standing beside his sister, fingers in his pockets as he watched the soldiers.  He was wearing blue cloth pants tucked into a pair of black boots and a newly acquired white t-shirt.  Chiana half expected to see a gun-belt on him as well, but it seemed that he was still choosing not to arm himself yet.  He was close enough to his sister for their arms to brush against each other occasionally, and Chiana realized that the boy was trying to offer comfort to his sister through the contact.

He was a good boy, and Aeryn had done a good job with him.  She thought back to when Shedya was that age, and how hard it had been for everyone.  She missed her boy.

D'Argo's hand pressed into her shoulder and she leaned back in to him, drawing strength.  He was the one man who had always been there for her, the one person who had never abandoned her.  "They are only a few microts late.  They will be here," he whispered softly.

Just as his reassurance was finished, the door opened and the two stepped into the ceremonial arena, looking anything but royal.  The reason for their delay was immediately apparent and Chiana felt perversely better.  At least they hadn't been recreating, lost in their own little world that they sometimes had a habit of slipping into.  She was all for any kind of recreation, at any other time than now.

Aeryn looked horrible.  Her eyes were dark rimmed, her black and grey hair uncombed, her face so pale, she nearly looked like a Nebari.  She was still in her sleeping clothes, and had obviously come straight from her bed.  One arm was around John's shoulders, his arm supporting her by her waist.  It looked as if he was more carrying her than she was walking.  Her free arm was holding a bowl.

John looked frustrated, almost angry and she wondered what they'd argued about.  He only got that look on his face when he'd lost an argument.

D'Argo and Aeric rushed from the platform, across the room to assist.  The Luxan supported her other side, the boy grabbing the bowl and holding it ready in case it should be needed again.  The small group slowly walked across the magnificent yellow carpet with dignity, only ruined by the occasional stop to let Aeryn dry heave into the bowl, in front of the entire crowd.

Not one soldier blinked, smiled, smirked or moved the slightest dench.  There was absolutely no sign that any of them had witnessed the embarrassing event, even though it was occurring right before them.  Chiana had to give Netrijon credit, his men were well trained.

Finally, they reached the platform and they ascended the stairs.  Aeryn motioned for them to stop in front of Chiana, and the two men complied with her wishes.  "I'm sorry, Chiana, that it took so long to get here.  There were unforeseen circumstances."

Chiana reached up and held Aeryn's check briefly with one gloved hand, a lump in her throat.  Aeryn could have stayed in bed all morning and the entire compound would have waited, but she'd crawled out of bed and come.  "No… no problem," she whispered, unable to convey her gratitude at her friend's sacrifice.  She didn't need to, Aeryn smiled and they both understood what the other was really saying.

Netrijon appeared from a side door that accessed the platform directly.  It would have been a nice shortcut for Aeryn, but it was too late now.  He stepped forward, wearing bright orange pants with green stockings and a large feathered headpiece, and raised his arms to the room.  Loud cheering, deafening in its volume, filled the ceremonial hall.  His arms dropped and silence instantly reigned, as oppressive as the noise had been.

"My dedicated employees…" he stated clearly, his voice booming over everyone's head.  "Today we…"

Oh great, he was winding up for a speech.  Poor Aeryn was only standing erect by the assistance of the men, and the longer they waited, the longer until they reached this Klune guy.  She wanted to scream, she wanted to kick this idiot in the mivonks.  Instead, she stood silently beside her friends, waiting.  A hand brushed her back, circled her waist and she felt Aeric's side pressing into hers, hugging her.

"Don't worry, Chi," he whispered softly, his lips barely moving.  "We'll get him.  Dad always gets what he goes after, no matter what."

She hugged him back and remained silent, comforted by his simple words.  This group never gave up, and if listening to this windbag drone on got them out of here safely so they could go after Shedya, she could wait.

"…And for the glory of the company, and for the sovereignty of the Thasniodian Empire, they go forth to gain retribution!"  Netrijon's arm raised and the room erupted into cheers once again.  Thank the Hynerion Gods, this was almost over.  She sighed in relief.  They would be on Moya soon and one step closer to getting her boy back.

---------------------------------------------

Brennik peered through the latticework of Aeric's door, trying to see if he was awake or not.  The lights were set to low, and it was difficult to tell.  It had been several arns since they'd left the mines, and that freak, Netrijon.  Now they were speeding to the secret base of the mercenary operation and hopefully getting closer to the missing men.

"Hey," she said softly enough not to disturb him if he was sleeping.

"Hey," was the soft response.  "Come in."

She palmed the door and it silently swished open.  Not really sure what she was here for, she stepped inside and glanced around before finding the lump that was Aeric on his bed.  As her eyes adjusted, she could make out more of his figure.  Fully dressed, he was stretched out on top of the covers, his ankles crossed, his hands under his head. He eyed her silhouette, patiently waiting for her to explain why she had sought out his company in the middle of the sleep cycle.

"How are you doing?" she asked, feeling stupid.

"If I sleep, I dream," he stated simply.  She hadn't expected such a candid answer.  "How are _you_ doing?" he asked in return.

She sighed heavily and thought about all the answers she could give him.  He'd been honest with her, though.  He deserved the same.  "Miserable and feeling sorry for myself."  She found a short, overstuffed chair in the corner of his room, and plopped down, flinging one leg over an armrest.

Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.  "Wanna play a game of Chess?"

"No."

"Me neither."  They both seemed to run out of things to say, and the room became silent.  A DRD passed in the hall, sent on some unknown task.  "We're a lot luckier than most people in the universe," she finally mused, trying to convince herself as much as him.

"How do you figure?" he asked.

"No matter what, we have each other."

"What if we didn't?" he asked with a sadness seeping into his voice.  She didn't answer; the thought was too horrible to face at that moment.  He let her lack of answer slide and waited a few microts before changing the subject.  "When we were in the township, did you see the Gembaadi trelk with the three loomas?"

She snickered, despite her mood.  "Sitting on the corner of Heeduin and Beldosi?"

He chuckled a little.  "Yeah, that was the one."

"Was that a woman or a man?" she asked.  "With the three loomas, I thought it was a 'she' at first, but then it stood up and I wasn't sure."

"She propositioned me."

"Really?!?"

He smiled in the dim light.  "Yeah."

"You didn't.  Did you?"

"No," he said with a wistful tone.  "But it was fun having her ask."

"I bet," she said, smiling despite herself.  How did Aeric do it?  She knew why she'd come in here, now.  He had this talent for diverting her thoughts and making her smile.  She knew he was having a hard time.  He probably wanted his space, and here she was, using him.  "Should I leave?" she asked faintly.

"No."

She pondered his response and felt a little better, knowing that she was providing a modicum of comfort by being here.  Maybe it wasn't so one-sided after all.  Maybe she was distracting him as well.  "You're a good man, Aeric," she told him.

"I hope to be, someday.  Everyone tells me I'm just like Dad.  I could do worse, I guess."

"Yes, you could," she agreed.  Silence fell once again, and the nightly sounds of Moya pervaded.  She listened to him breathing across the room, listened to his breaths become more and more deep and regular.  He was sleeping.

She'd wait a while longer, just in case.  Maybe being needed by somebody else would help take her mind off her own problems.

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It was morning on Moya, and the lights slowly brightened until the entire room was well lit.  Aeric almost adjusted the settings lower, but it was too late, he was awake.  His feet felt hot and sweaty and his side was stiff.  Oh yeah, he'd fallen asleep in his clothes.  

He'd tried not to sleep at all, and it shouldn't have been difficult.  Every time his eyes closed, Jeleen's face was imprinted on the back of his eyelids.  She had been a very beautiful woman, even if she HAD been psychotic.  He remembered the blood of his family dripping from that knife, and the horror washed through him all over again.

His eyes snapped open, and the image disappeared, leaving the panic behind.  Someone had covered him in the night, and he'd twisted to his side.  Brennik still sat in the chair across the room, one leg propped over the armrest, her head tilted back at an awkward angle, snoring softly.  She was going to have a stiff neck all day, he'd bet.

He didn't want to wake her, she slept so seldom lately, so he quietly sat up and removed his covers and tiptoed in to his washroom.  He washed quickly, threw in a dentic and headed for the center chamber.  He was starving.

The halls were quiet; it was still early.  D'Argo and Chiana wouldn't emerge for at least another arn, and who knew where Noranti was.  His mother was always sick in the mornings, and if Dad has his way, she wouldn't be up for a while either.  After yesterday, he didn't blame her if she stayed in bed for a weeken.  But that wasn't her way.  Hadn't she been the one who'd insisted on walking through that crowd, refusing to be carried, or to wait?

On a whim, he decided to pass through the maintenance bay on his way to first meal.  He loved looking at his father's module and imagining what it had been like, that first time through the wormhole, with no one there to guide him.  He remembered his own flight through one, and he secretly wished he could do it again.  It had been magic.  When he was near the module, he could run his hands over the hull, close his eyes and hear the melody and harmony in his head.

That's one of the reasons he loved his skateboard so much; the rush was very similar.  Only it would never be the same, the music wasn't there.  That was another reason to go to the bay, he told himself.  He needed to get his skateboard from the transport pod.

He stepped in to the room and heard a faint clatter of metal hitting the floor.  Following the sound, he found himself standing near his mother's prowler, looking at two black, leather-clad legs sticking out from underneath, moving slightly with the effort of the work that was being performed.  He cleared his throat and his father's head ducked out from under the machine.

"Hey," he said in greeting.  "Come over here and hold this part still for me, all right?"  Without waiting for confirmation, his head disappeared under the prowler.

Aeric sighed dramatically, just for show, and crawled under with his father to hold the requested part stable.  "What are you doing?" he asked.  His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd been on his way to eat, but he ignored it.  He'd learned recently that some things were more important, and you had to prioritize.

"Just some maintenance.  I didn't like the way it sounded the last time your mother fired it up, but I haven't had a chance to work on it until now.  Hand me that fuel adjuster."

Aeric handed him the tool and lay on his back, watching his father work in silence.  His mind worked overtime, faster than his father's steady hands, and finally, he had to say what had been eating at him.  "Wormholes could solve our problems, you know."

The adjuster fell out of his father's hands, smacking him on the forehead before clattering to the floor.  A Luxan swear word, appropriate for the occasion, sounded from the injured man.  He'd have to remember that one, it was good.  For long microts his father laid on his back, rubbing the injury and staring at the machinery above his head, lost in his own thoughts.  "Why would you say that?" he finally asked, his voice just a touch too casual.

"I've seen what they can do, don't lie to me.  We could go back before all this happened, and keep Sethya and Tean and Shedya from leaving.  Or we could go back even farther.  Think about it, dad.  We could go back before the Mom was taken, and live our lives together like we should have."

His father closed his eyes, as if warding off a deep pain.  A heavy sigh escaped and he turned blue eyes directly at his son, looking into his soul.  "No, Aeric.  We can't."

"I've seen it.  You can travel through time, you can DO something!"

"It doesn't work that way.  This is a lesson for another time.  Someday, I will explain it to you.  But the short answer is, that if you go backward in your own timeline, you will frell _everything_ up."

"How?" he asked angrily, thinking his father was dismissing his idea out of hand.

"How?" he repeated the question, obviously straining to hold his temper.  "By killing yourself on accident, for one.  Or finding out that your sister is really Noranti now, and that I am a Peacekeeper captain.  Or that D'Argo…" he stopped his tirade and looked at his boy's confused gaze, realizing he wasn't helping.  "Everything has a way of working itself back to the natural timeline, making things familiar.  You might change the event that you know of as bad, but accidentally make something worse happen," he finished.

Aeric watched his face, seeing pain, haunted regret, terror.  "You've done it, haven't you?" he asked softly.

"Yes."  The older man was quiet for a moment before continuing.  "Wormholes are bad, Aeric.  Stay away from them."

"I can't."  A long silence hung heavily.  The maintenance work on the prowler had been long forgotten by the two, and they looked at each other with an uneasy understanding.  "They sing to me," Aeric finally finished.  "I don't know how much longer I can ignore them."

His father swallowed and looked away, suddenly remembering the mechanics of the prowler above him.  His hands went to work and he spoke with sad determination.  "Then when this is all over, I'll start teaching you everything I know.  I can't have you falling into one completely blind."

Aeric nodded, not sure if his father could even see him or not, but not sure what to say either.  He was thrilled, he was excited, he was terrified.  His father was angry and depressed.  He heard him mumble something about frelling Ancients, but he didn't ask what it meant.  His stomach growled loudly and his father finally smiled, glancing at him.

"I think we're about done."  He threw down his tool and started to pull himself from under the Prowler.  "Let's go get something to eat."

As they left the room, his father threw an arm over Aeric's shoulder and squeezed briefly.  Suddenly, everything didn't seem quite as overwhelming anymore.

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Brennik scratched the raw skin under the wire holding her top in place and reminded herself for the millionth time in an arn that she was doing this for Sethya… who'd have a coronary right now if he saw her.  She could picture the look on his face if he ever caught sight of her in the tight, skin colored, lacey pants, the skimpy shirt that exposed her stomach and pushed her loomas up and together.  Everything of absolute vital importance was covered, but you couldn't tell at first glance.

As it was, she wasn't looking forward to her father showing up either.  He'd be here within half an arn, and she was pretty sure that when she and Chiana were sent ahead yesterday to infiltrate the club as waitresses, he didn't have this get-up in mind.  Chiana was across the room, working the crowd and the tables with a natural grace and seduction that was inspiring.  Brennik, on the other hand, nearly gave one customer a right hook when he'd smacked her rear.

If Sethya had seen it, that hand would have gone missing.

The club was filled with loud music, it was dark, and her lungs were choking on smoke from a hundred different types of plants being inhaled; both rolled in paper and in pipes.  This was some kind of celebration, and all the patrons were holding nothing back in their antics.

As she wove between the tables, trying to remember drink orders and fend off wandering hands, paws and tentacles, she cursed her father, cursed Sethya, and for good measure threw in a curse for Tean as well.  This was actually worse than that meeting at that red bar with The Businessman.  And she didn't have Sethya here nibbling on her ear to make it better.  Why was it you never appreciate what you have until it's gone?

A hand reached up from behind her, grasping her stomach and pulling her hard into a big lap.  The drinks on her serving tray crashed to the floor, sending shards of glass and pottery flying in all directions.  Laughter rang out through the group, and she reacted instinctively.  Her elbow flew back, connecting to something soft and giving.  The arms dropped as her assailant howled in misery.

Not finished, she jumped from the lap and spun, letting her fist connect with the Sebacean's face, sending him sprawling to the floor to land in a heap.  Let her be fired, let her be kicked out of here, she didn't care.  They'd find another way in.  There was a split microt where everyone in the bar was silent, staring at her, the music deafening without the chatter.  To her surprise, laughter erupted, a few other waitresses clapped, and everyone went back to partying, ignoring the man on the floor.

She headed back to the bartender, her boss, to refill the lost orders.  As she approached, she realized that she would probably be expelled, but acted as if nothing happened.  He filled the drinks and let her turn away before addressing her.

"Brennik," he called.

She turned around with trepidation, angry with herself for not handling things differently.  Sethya's life was on the line, and she'd blown it.  "Yeah?"

"I was wondering when you were going to handle the situation.  I was beginning to think I'd made a mistake in hiring you.  Good job."  He smiled, and she breathed a sigh of relief, smiling back at him.  She wasn't fired.

And no one else touched her again.

A quarter of an arn later, she saw a hand wave to her through the crowd, and she followed the summons.  If she wasn't a Crichton, on the run from every race in the Uncharted Territories, she could make a decent living as a waitress.  The tips had been really good, especially after she'd started imitating Chiana's way of swaying her hips.

"What can I get for you?" she asked as she reached for her order plate.  The small metal square automatically sent the request to the bartender, so that the drinks would be ready by the time she made it back.

"Give me a fellip nectar," a disgruntled, familiar, voice said to her.  She lifted her eyes to meet the deep blue of her father's.

"Can I get you any fried Grolack with that?  They're especially crisp tonight."

"No, the drink will be enough."  He was speaking volumes through his expression, and she answered back, silently, by not paying attention.  But when she turned to get his drink, she made special care not to sway her hips.  No need to make the situation worse.

When she returned with his order, he'd apparently adjusted; he managed to smile at her, though his eyes were still stormy. "So," he said conversationally, "I'm fairly new to this joint.  Who do I talk to about a job?"

"Well, if you want a job with the club, go talk to Jerchi, the fuzzy man behind the bar.  If you want a job with The Company, ask for Yacnyvesh."

"Thanks."

"No problem."  He looked at her and she waited until it dawned on him.  With a smirk, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, dropping them onto her serving tray.  It was, by far, the best tip of the night, but she wasn't going to tell him that.  "Cheapskate," she murmured as she walked away.  She heard him laugh behind her.

She had a tip bucket behind the counter with Jerchi and went to drop of her currency.  Her father probably expected the money back, but she'd earned it.  "Brennik," the bartender called when she was in hearing range.  "Drop your money and report to hall 2.  The big boss has seen you, and wants you for his special engagement."

Uh, oh.

He must have seen the panicked look on her face and smiled encouragingly.  "This is a good thing.  It triples your wages.  You'll do fine.  You're a natural.  The men love you."

That was what she as afraid of.

"And your friend, Chiana, will be there with you," he continued.  "You both were requested."

Ok, she felt a little better now.  She'd feel even better if she'd been allowed to waitress with her pulse pistols on.  They'd said it ruined the effect of her uniform, though.  Remembering the uniform, her chest began to itch again, and she absently reached up and rubbed her hand under the wire, soothing the raw spot.  Frelling push-up top.  How did other women wear these things all the time?

She looked back over to her father, trying to catch his eye and let him know that she was going, and that perhaps he might want to find a way to follow, but he was distracted by a trelk trying to make some quick cash.  She had to give her father credit, she was exotic and beautiful, and he was barely looking at her.  She would've gone over and rescue him from the determined woman (who didn't seem to be taking "No" for an answer), but Jerchi was impatiently waiting for her to report to his boss.

Chiana was near an exit at the back of the room and waved to her.  Good.  D'Argo was around here somewhere, and he'd spot them leaving.  The Luxan had a sixth sense when it came to his Nebari woman.  Maybe it came from countless cycles of keeping tabs on her.

They both squeezed through the door and it slammed heavily behind them, leaving them in a narrow, long hallway with multiple doors.  "Where are we going?" Brennik asked.

"Jerchi said to follow the passage to the very end," Chiana replied.  "We'd be given instructions from there."

"What's this for?" she asked as they cautiously walked toward their destination.

"The Boss is having a special engagement, saw us, and asked for us to serve it."

"Klune?!"

"Yeah, I think so," Chiana answered.  Hatred was mirrored in both their eyes.  That was something they'd have to control before they met up with the head mercenary.

At last, they reached a heavy, metal door at the end of the passage, guarded by one mangy looking blood tracker that sniffed at them unappreciatively.  "He usually gets better," the guard observed as he pulled the door open.  "The bar is on the left.  Report to the drink maker."

"Where is Klune?  Chiana asked, her head tilting downward slightly, looking at the blood tracker with false innocence.  "I want to thank him for the opportunity."

The guard backed up slightly, frowning disapproval.  "You'll get your chance, don't worry.  He gives all the new help undivided attention."

A shiver pleasure seemed to ripple through Chiana at the mere thought.  Brennik hoped her reaction of revulsion could be taken the same way.  She'd forced herself to smile, though.  That had to be good enough.  Frell, this is what you got when you were raised by an old man.  You became deficient in the subtleties that every other woman seemed to have instinctively.

They stepped inside to an entirely different club.  The lights were set high, a band was playing abstract music a stage to the right, and the tables were full of exotic food and colorful drinks.  The patrons were in good spirits, but none were overly rowdy and the waitresses looked less frazzled.  This was definitely the higher class of the business.

There was a stage to the left as well, with tables arranged in a courtly fashion.  Men sat at the tables, eating, and Brennik assumed they were the higher ranking officers.

Chiana grabbed her arm and headed her for the bar.  A Luxan stood behind it, eyeing them appreciatively as they approached.  "Hey there, big guy," Chiana greeted.  "We were told to talk to you.  I'm Chiana, this is Brennik."

"Yes, well, I can see that Klune hasn't lost his good taste in women.  You are to be serving him personally tonight."

The Nebari woman leaned in close, showing a great deal of cleavage in the skimpy top, and ran a finger down his jaw.  "Is he the _only_ one we'll be serving?"

The Luxan coughed and held out a tray with multiple plates, his hands shaking.  "Serve him first, then everyone at the other tables.  Serve the guests at his table last."

That was weird.

Chiana winked at him and grabbed the plate of food.  "Come on, Brennik.  Let's get going."  They both wielded their trays before them bravely, and moved to the stage.  It was difficult managing the stairs, but they reached the table of honor without mishap.

Until Brennik leaned in to place the plate of food in front of Klune, identified by his ornate dinner chair, and found that the angle she had to reach with placed her pushed up loomas directly in the face of one of Klune's dinner companions.  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said and backed up to look directly into the eyes of Sethya.


	4. Chapter 4

Author: Auna

Title: Old Haunts; Book 2, Chapter 4

Rating: PG-13, just because I believe in playing it safe

Disclaimer: Farscape isn't mine.  A few of these characters are, but that's all I'll lay claim to.

Beta's: scrubschick, shipsister and ScaperRed.  I cannot possibly thank you enough or give you enough credit for this story.  You have stuck with me through all of my temper tantrums and bad grammar and kept me going.  Sanchez, you have been so awesome and I thank you for all the creativity you put into this.  This wouldn't be half the story it is without you.

Author's Notes:  I've thought a lot about what I'd want to say here, the very last chapter in the whole Brennik/Aeric universe, and sadly enough I couldn't come up with anything poignant.  It's been over a year, and a lot of you are still here reading.  Wow.  I am humbled.  Thank you.  I hope this doesn't disappoint.

Go here for a diagram of the banquet hall. 

One last thought.  This picks up RIGHT where chapter three left off, so you might want to read the last few paragraphs of that chapter to refresh yourself of the mood and setting.  I did nothing to reestablish that.

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Sethya's eyes, bruised and swollen, only glanced at Brennik for less than a microt before they moved away without recognition.  His mouth was swollen and the bruises extended over his face in artistic patterns.  Her heart jumped into her throat and she looked away as well.  Her hands shook, making it difficult to place the settings.

The longer she worked, the more she realized exactly what was going on.  Sethya wasn't the only one at the table.  Shedya and Tean were there as well.  All of them were shackled to their chairs, their wrists secured to their seats.  They could watch everyone else eat, they could see the food in front of them and smell its delicate aroma, but it was impossible for them to eat.

And from the looks of their physical condition, it didn't appear that they had eaten much the last weeken and a half.  Was that really only how long it had been?  It felt like she'd lived several cycles.  Seeing their condition, it had probably felt like eons to them.

All of this was observed from her peripheral vision as she worked, the food slightly slopping over the sides of the plates with her shaking.  But she stalled, trying to stay next to Sethya for as long as possible.  It seemed that between her haircut and his injuries, he didn't realize who she was, but she wanted to be there to support him anyway.

Eventually, she couldn't stall any longer and had to move to accommodate the round table, giving everyone a portion.  When she finished setting the last plate, she made sure to walk to Sethya's side one last time under the excuse of placing a bowl of bread in the center of the table.  As she stretched to reach the center, she purposely brushed her leg against his and received no reaction on his part.

She wanted another look at that swollen eye, so she turned in his direction to leave, but before she could take a step, she felt his boot and leather pants wrap around her leg, cool through the lace of her nearly non-existent pants.  "You need to get your trelks a little less clumsy," he said in a raspy voice, as his leg wound around hers and flicked their intertwined legs in a direction that sent her flying downward, face first into his lap.

A person could think a lot of things in a very short amount of time, and as she fell, the first was the realization that he'd tripped her on purpose.  The second was that he'd called her a trelk.  The third; that he probably did recognize her, since he wasn't the type to go around insulting someone as insignificant as a waitress.  The fourth, and most prominent thought that entered her mind, was that she was going to beat the dren out of him when they got out of here.

And then she hit his lap.

It was hard and ungiving and she felt her air rush out of her with the impact.  Luckily, and to her satisfaction, her elbow connected with his stomach on her way down, and his air was knocked out of him as well.  He doubled over in pain, and for half a heartbeat, she was completely surrounded by his body.

She felt the brush of his lips against her neck as she struggled to right herself, and her knees went weak, causing her to collapse again.  Fortunately, it looked like she'd tripped over her serving tray.  She pulled herself together and struggled to stand, using him as leverage.  He never once looked at her.

Laughter rang throughout the hall, and Klune was enjoying her moment of humiliation immensely.  "So Klune, you've resorted to hiring women to beat the dren out of me now?" Sethya asked.

The arrogant mercenary sat back in his chair and draped one arm around the back of it as he eyed Brennik thoroughly.  She had no doubt, by the gleam in his eye and the smile on his lips, that he wasn't seeing a scrap of her clothing right then.

"You're the only man I know," he addressed Sethya without looking at him, "that would complain about a beautiful woman literally falling into his lap."  He subtly ran his tongue along the top of his teeth, just the bare edge peeking out from his lips, and then finally turned his attention to his captive.  "Maybe you prefer men?  Should I get one of the squad to come sit in your lap?"

She saw the anger in Sethya's eyes, and knew it wasn't about the joke just made.  He had superior control, though, and forced himself to smile.  "You made your first mistake, Klune, when you let it become personal.  It was always about business, and that's what kept you successful.  What happened to the Peacekeepers?  They weren't interested anymore?"

Klune's sole attention was on Sethya now, and she was able to sneak to the nearest rectangular table without another inspection.  All of the plates had been served, so she positioned herself at the corner nearest Sethya, under the guise of standing guard for any needs of the men.  Truthfully, she was keeping the head table within hearing range.  She had the perfect view of both their profiles, and listened intently.

"Oh, they were interested.  But I couldn't decide whether to give you to them, or have the pleasure of killing you myself.  I still have a few arns until they get here.  I still might change my mind."

Sethya smirked, irritating Klune.  "Do you really think I care about dying, idiot?  Do me the favor.  But let the kid go; he's not a part of this.  You'll ruin your reputation for professionalism."

The man smiled, shaking his head.  "Ironically, Sethya, that's what kept you alive for two and a half cycles, your apathy towards death.  You've always taken the chances no one else in his right mind would try."

Sethya shrugged, his chains rattling slightly with the effort.  "So, what is it?  Death by you, or death by the Peacekeepers?"

"Well," Klune said, eyes widening slightly and leaning in as if divulging some deep secret.  He looked incredibly pleased.  "They told me I could witness the Aurora chair in use.  Evidently, there have been rumors of you associating with certain individuals, and they want all your knowledge of them.  Otherwise, you're right about the boy.  If he hadn't been witnessed fighting as one of your crew, I wouldn't have even bothered securing him in the first place, it would have been a waste of resources.

"But enough talk of business right now.  This is a celebration!  The Company has finally captured the elusive Sethya and Tean."

"You lost money on us, you know.  IF the Peacekeepers actually pay up, you spent more than you earned."

"Ahh, but I had the pleasure of the chase, and glory of knowing I won."

"So, you won?" Sethya asked.

Before Klune could answer, a door opened on the left, and a large group of men of every race Brennik had encountered, and several she hadn't, began pouring into the room.  They were all directed to empty tables and the waitresses began delivering plates of food.

She started in that direction, hoping to find her father in the group and speak to him, however briefly she could, to update him on the situation.  But as she passed the two men, a warm hand circled her waste and pulled her down into yet another lap.  Only this time, she couldn't elbow the drannit in the face... it was Klune.

His arm was like steel and she didn't dare struggle.  She tried to giggle, but it ended up sounding like she was about to vomit.  His fingers began lazy circles on her bare skin, reaching ever too close to the higher parts of her chest.  She didn't dare look at Sethya, so she began to eye the crowd of newcomers.

Klune noticed that her attention was diverted.  "Those are the initiates.  I decided to invite them tonight.  Everyone gets to celebrate my victory, including the prisoners."  She felt his breath on her neck, in the same spot Sethya had just kissed.  It was sacrilege, and she wanted to scream when she felt teeth softly nibble at the bottom of her hairline.  "Sethya gets the pleasure of being fed by you tonight," Klune said, his voice carrying even though his mouth was so close to her neck.  "The Nebari woman, she gets to feed the other two.  No one will say that I am not a compassionate captor."

Yeah, that's why they all looked like they had spent the weeken at a pleasure resort.

She picked up a two-pronged utensil and filled it with a mashed yellow concoction, when she saw Sethya eyeing it purposely.  Maybe it was one of his favorite foods.  She guided it into his mouth, trying desperately not to meet his eyes and ignore the hand playing with her stomach.  Spoonful after spoonful, she loaded his mouth as Klune's hand circled upward.

This was it.  The mercenary was going to grab a handful of her loomas, and there was nothing she could do about it.  Why couldn't he have picked Chiana?  She wouldn't have cared in the slightest.  Time slowed for Brennik as his hand ascended, his palm widening.

Just as his fingers were about to enclose their target, Sethya spewed all the yellow mush straight into her face.  He must have been saving it in his mouth, and used all the air his lungs could hold, because she was covered in the dren.  There had been enough to not only cover her, but to spill over onto Klune as well.

The mercenary jumped to his feet, unceremoniously dumping her to the floor and she heard a loud jumble of bodies colliding.  Four pairs of legs were standing around Sethya's chair and she heard skin connect with skin.  Sethya gasped, and at one point, cried out slightly, until a crash heralded his chair's fall to the ground.  The idiot took a beating over that.  They would have a talk about that later.

She crawled out from under the table to find Sethya on the ground, still attached to his chair.  His eye was more swollen, and a small trickle of blood was trailing from his nose to the floor.  He coughed and the sound was watery.  She scooted over to him on her knees and towered above him, angrily.  He twisted his face to hers and she looked into his eyes.

Loudly, concisely so there would be no mistake, she made her declaration.  "Don't you EVER do that AGAIN!"  She was talking about taking a beating for her sake, but the laughing crowd around them thought she was peeved over her food bath.

He looked at her with anger on his face, but a smirk in his eyes, and answered her just as loudly.  "In a heartbeat, honey."

The men at the nearby tables roared with laughter again and, irritated, she pulled a handful of yellow mash from between her pushed-up cleavage and tossed it at him.  She hit her mark, and it splattered on his face, landing in an eye.  Poor guy.  She wanted to go pick him up and hold him, but she forced herself to stand and wait beside the table for further instructions.

Klune looked at her with distaste, and waved his hand toward the exit.  "Go bathe and come back,' he granted.

Without argument, she hurried from the room, anxious to get back and keep an eye on Sethya.  Although, it seemed as if he were better off without her.  At least, it seemed he didn't sustain quite as many injuries. 

Chiana realized what was going on about the same time Brennik fell into Sethya's lap.  She scanned the table and found her baby, shackled and beaten.  His bruises were an odd mixture of dark gray and bluish purple.  His face was swollen and it looked like he could barely hold himself up.

She wanted to run to him and pull him into her arms, but she held back.  They'd been in this situation more times than she could count, and she'd learned long ago to wait for the right moment.  Then she'd been told to feed Tean and Shedya.

She tried to look indifferent, tried to look irritated.  But it was a labor of love as she alternately spooned the fancy cuisine between the two men.  The whole table was disrupted when Sethya pulled his stunt, and she was pushed to the side temporarily as four mercenaries beat on Sethya, tipping his chair in the process.

Brennik was sent away and Chiana gained hope.  D'Argo or John would contact her and she'd be able to update them.  The plan would be frelled, whatever they came up with, but it would be a plan, and they would make it work.  It was only a matter of time.  She breathed a sigh of relief and continued with her waitress duties.

Brennik finally reached her assigned room she shared with Chiana and tugged at the primitive handle with a sigh.  They'd slept here the previous night, before their orientation this morning, and already her stuff was scattered about the place.  She had thought they'd be stuck here longer, undercover until someone could infiltrate into the network to discover what had happened to the boys.  Obviously that wasn't necessary now.

Without turning on the lights, she crossed the room and headed for the washroom, peeling off clothes as she went, letting the awful creations rest wherever they landed.  She was in a hurry.

"You really need to be more careful when you enter a room while working," a voice spoke through the darkness, startling a small screech from her.  "You never know who will be waiting for you."

She was topless and standing in the middle of the room with no chance at cover.  Her mother was right.  If it had been anyone else, she'd have been at a terrible disadvantage.  "I'll keep that in mind.  How did you know where to find us?"

"Chiana managed to get a message to us earlier this morning.  John and D'Argo are still in the bar, but I don't know how much headway they are making."

"They're here.  Now.  The boys are sitting at some asinine banquet that Klune is lording over them.  They're pretty messed up.  But I don't know how we are going to get everyone out of here.  That room is filled with over a hundred mercenaries, and they are expecting the Peacekeepers in a couple of arns."

Her mother's head tilted slightly in the darkness, pausing briefly.  "Peacekeepers?  How long?"

"I don't know, they were pretty vague.  I'd guess two to three arns, at most."

Her mother suddenly seemed restless, anxious to get moving.  "Go change and get back there and wait for our signal.  You'll know what to do when the time comes."  She started for the door, but paused when Brennik called to her.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, the fear and frustration ebbing through her voice.

Through the dim light, she saw her mother smirk.  "First, I'm going to tell your father.  After that, I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure what he'll come up with.  After a while, you get a sixth sense about these things.  Just wait for it.  Your father has never let us down before, has he?"

Brennik shook her head and her mother disappeared out the door.  It was little reassurance, but it was all she was going to get.

The room had been darkened.  She had no idea why, but when she'd returned to the banquet room, the lights were low and everyone seemed in a mellow, cheerful mood, if slightly drunk.  The boys were still sitting at Klune's table, their food before them and inaccessible.

Chiana had waylaid her for a few microts, and she'd managed to relay the conversation with her mother to the Nebari before they were called in different directions again.  Chiana had looked relieved, and Brennik drew strength from her friend's surety.

Her father would think of something.

The next arn was difficult.  Sethya sat on the stage, only a few motras from her, and she couldn't do a thing about it.  He didn't look at her, didn't acknowledge her in any way.

Chiana must be going mad, to see her baby restrained like that, bruised and swollen.

"Hey," Tean called to her as she passed by, heading to the next table over to refill drinks.  She stopped and turned and lifted her nose slightly, trying to stay in character.  "I won't spit on you," he said, tilting his head toward his plate.

He looked hungry, but a small smile graced his swollen lip.  She couldn't help it.  She smiled.  Leave it to Tean, to tease his brother, even now.  She must have looked doubtful, because Klune spoke up.  "Go ahead... Brennik?  You can feed him.  I'm sure he will be much more appreciative."

Now she just wanted to take the plate and pour it into his lap.  Tean; the opportunist.

Slowly, she reached over to his plate and picked up the eating utensil Chiana had used earlier to feed him.  She stabbed a large portion of meat and raised it to his lips, arching an eyebrow at him in challenge.  She was sending a message about the size of his mouth, but he only wrapped his lips completely around the hunk and pulled it off the two pronged fork with his lips and began to chew, his eyes smiling up at her.

"Yomph ha to doo be'er tad at, woan," he said around the food.  She'd do better than that, she'd...

A door at the back of the stage slammed open and a scruffy looking man wearing two pulse pistols and a long blade slung over his back hurried into the room.  He scanned the area for a microt before locating Klune and rushing to his side.  He knelt beside the ornate chair and began whispering, almost frantically.

She couldn't be sure in the dim light, but she thought she saw Klune frown, his face becoming more sour as the whispering continued.  Klune returned the whisper and the man stood and headed for the next table, whispering quickly to the man at the head, who in turn delivered the message to the men sitting around him.

Rapidly, the word was being spread, and they were becoming more alert... getting ready for something.  The hair on the back of her neck began to dance and her heart started to race.

What could be happening?  They were already in the worst possible predicament, stuck on a para-military base, surrounded by hundreds of people who wanted them dead, with the biggest, meanest military force in this sector headed this way, intent on their capture.  Yet something else was happening.  Such was the life of a Crichton.

What had her father said to her that day he'd taken her from the Flying Academy?  "It sucks for you, but get over it."  There was no getting over being a Crichton.

Across the room, next to the opposite stage, a large door slammed open, and in walked two figures.  Her heart stopped in her chest.  Peacekeepers.  She'd never seen them in person before.  Her entire knowledge of the ruthless soldiers had all been through legend and stories told to her by her shipmates.

Everything they had told her was true.

She couldn't make out all their features with the dim lighting, but she could see enough to know she didn't want to ever be taken prisoner by one.  The front soldier, a man, was wearing red and black leather pants, the standard pulse pistol gracing each thigh.  His pants hugged his body, accentuating the strength and power in his legs alone.

His red and black leather jacket ended at his waist, showing lean hips and broad shoulders.  His gloved hands were held perfectly still at his sides with no nervous twitching or adjusting, ready over the grip of his pistols.

His face was the scariest part of all.  With the combination of the lighting and the distance, he seemed faceless... emotionless; devoid of any warmth or soul.

The woman behind him was just as scary.  Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid at the base of her neck, no loose strands or wisps daring to escape.  Her form was hidden behind a long black leather coat, but there was no mistaking the power in her stance as she stood ready with her pulse rifle held at waist level.

The two began to walk past the stage, past the room full of mercenaries staring at them, toward Klune sitting in his decorated chair on the stage.  They moved with confidence, arrogance and total disregard for the hostile stares and the weapons just denches away from being aimed at them.

At last they reached the base of the stage Klune sat at and stopped, staring up at the leader with contempt.  "You are Klune?" the man asked, his voice hard and commanding.

It was her father's.  Her lungs refused to operate, and she forgot for a moment how to breathe.  This was yet another face to the man who'd raised her, the man she thought she'd known.  She never thought his blue eyes could ever be so cold, his voice so hard, so emotionless.  Who was this man?  Would she ever learn the real John Crichton?  Just when she thought she had him figured out, the rules changed all over again.

Somehow, knowing that this stranger before her was her father didn't make her feel any better.  It only served to make the performance that much more eerie.

"Yes, I am," Klune replied.

"I am Captain Kirk," he said with a straight face.

Brennik wanted to roll her eyes.  Captain Kirk?  He couldn't come up with anything better than that?  She thought she heard Chiana groan behind her, the sound carrying in the stillness of the room.  Her father ignored the interruption and continued.

"I am here for the prisoners.  I see you have them ready.  Leftenant," he said, to Aeryn standing slightly behind him, "secure the prisoners."

"There is the matter of payment," Klune said as two of his men blocked the stairway.

Her father pulled a small leather bag from around his neck and held it in the air.  "This covers the reward promised."

Klune scooped the bag into his hands and dumped the money onto the table in front of him.  From where Brennik stood, it was a lot of cash.  Her father hadn't lied... there was enough there to cover the ransom, and probably more.

They were rich?  Why hadn't anybody ever told her?  And why had they labored for twenty cycles under a blazing sun doing back-breaking work?  And where had the money come from?  Wait.  She didn't really want to know the answer to that one. 

Klune sifted through the coins for several microts, probably doing a quick count.  Finally satisfied, he raised his head and looked down on the Peacekeeper imposters with a smile on his lips.  "This is adequate," he conceded.  "You may have your traitors."

The two men blocking the stairs moved aside and Aeryn mounted the steps, heading for the table silently.  A mercenary stepped up from the background and released all three prisoners from their chairs, cuffing them in full restraints for Aeryn to transport.

Meekly, with a show of how injured they were, the men hobbled and staggered across the stage in front of Aeryn's pulse rifle.  They descended the steps and stopped in front of John, leaning on each other for support and strength.  No one reached a hand out to help, and in fact, John cast cold blue eyes at Sethya and Tean and spat in each of their faces.

Brennik wanted to scream at him.  What was he doing?  Couldn't he see that they'd been humiliated and hurt enough?  She held her ground, though.  Mom had said to trust him.

"Move, soldiers," her father barked coldly and stood and watched as they hobbled across the room, barley able to move under the guidance of Aeryn's rifle.

"We have further business," Klune said to John, gaining his attention one more time.

He turned a grey head to the mercenary with contempt.  "Our business is finished."

"There was an agreement," Klune said.  "I get to watch the interrogation."

"Take that up with the captain of the command carrier headed this way," John returned.  "All I'm doing is transporting them."  He turned away, the conversation obviously finished, and followed the small group through the room.

Chiana and Brennik stood on the stage, watching the retreating forms and calculating how long they would have to wait before making their escape.  The Peacekeepers would be here at any moment, but they didn't want to raise suspicions by leaving too early.

It ended up being a moot point.  The retreating group had arrived at the door John and Aeryn had entered through, when the door at the back of the stage, behind Klune, slammed open and a large man, dressed in Peacekeeper black and red entered the room with four equally leather clad soldiers, all carrying rifles and looking dangerous.

Several things happened simultaneously, all of which occurred in a matter of microts.  "I am Captain Beghuin," said the leader of the real Peacekeepers.  "I am here for the traitors."

As the captain introduced himself in the silence of the hall, a reverberating thunk of metal crashing to the floor punctuated the ominous announcement.  Every head in the room swiveled to the opposite side of the room to stare at John, Aeryn, Sethya, Tean and Laighn... who had just dropped his restraints and was now standing free with a whip in his hand.

Chiana wanted to moan.  Shedya had dropped his cuffs too early.  If he had waited until they'd reached the hallway, John could have probably bluffed their way to safety.  That was not possible now.

A single shot rang out across the room.  No one was quite sure where it had originated from, but everyone was already on edge and it had been enough for panic and mayhem to break out.

Everyone ducked, and Chiana managed to keep an eye on the escaping group long enough to see John pull out a pistol from his jacket and throw it to Sethya and Aeryn tossing one to Tean.  Where the frell was D'Argo?  Shots were flying in all directions and she and Brennik found themselves pulled to the ground by another young waitress.

Tables were being toppled over to use as cover while bodies, food, and pottery flew in every direction.  It was through this chaos that they were crawling, headed for the door.  A young Zenetan fell in front of Chiana, nearly landing on top of her.

"Where the frell is my pulse pistol when I need it?" Brennik called from behind her.

In answer, Chiana pulled the pistol from the dead woman... or was it a man... and tossed it back to her.  "Here."  She stretched up onto her knees, trying to see above the tables and the mayhem to find out what was going on, only to nearly be singed by a flying blast.  The glimpse had been quick enough to see the last of the crew disappear through the door.  "They're out," she called to Brennik.  "Let's get out of here."

Perhaps it was the intoxicated state of the mercenaries, or perhaps they were looking for something to break the monotony of non-work, but they continued to fight after the group escaped.  Half the crowd fought amongst themselves, the other tried to follow the escaping crew.  There must have been several routes, because they left through every exit in the room.

That meant that they were vulnerable to ambush.  Frell!  Her baby was with them.  Chiana, still on her hands and knees, looked behind her to see Brennik taking aim at a mercenary that had her by the ankles.  "Quit playing around," she said as Brennik's  blast knocked the man over.  "They're out."

"Great," Brennik said, tucking the pistol in the back of her tight waistband and returning to her hands and knees.  "Lets go."

"Let me go with you!" the waitress who had initially shoved them to the floor called.

"If you can keep up, you can come," Chiana hollered loud enough to be heard over the mayhem.  All three women crawled through the mess, dodging flying bodies and food, trying to make it to the nearest exit.  Their outfits weren't conducive to quick maneuvering though, and progress was slow.

"Where are we going?" the young woman asked, dodging a flying bowl of yellow glop.

"Out that way," Brennik motioned with her hand before using it to trip a leg that was attempting to kick her.  She smiled with satisfaction at the loud crash of the man hitting the floor and continued on.

Finally they reached the exit and stood in time for a large, burly Luxan to grab Brennik around the waist and hold a knife to her throat.  "Where do you think you are going?" he asked in her ear.  It was the last thing he'd ever say.

The young waitress stood up behind him and pulled a long dagger from her hair braid, plunging it into the Luxan's neck.  Chiana and Brennik watched him fall to the floor in shock, the waitress already tugging at the doorknob.  "Your ship is this way?"

"Yeah," Chiana said, pulling her eyes away from the body on the floor.  He'd resembled a young D'Argo.  Where was he?  All three women escaped the tumultuous room in haste.  The transport pod should be easy to reach now.

John's heart stopped in his chest when he heard the voice of the Peacekeeper commando echo throughout the room.  This was going to take a load of bull-crap to pull their collectives asses out of this mess.  He'd gotten here first, though, so he had the upper hand.

Pretend they're the imposters.  After all, he was the King of the Bluff, wasn't he?  Then the loud metallic ring of Shedya's restraints hitting the floor reverberated and every set of eyes turned to them.  Ok, if Aeryn acted quickly, they could still pull themselves out of this.

She made a move to subdue the kid, when a shot rang out across their heads, missing Aeryn by a few denches.  The game was over.  Once again, they were forced to rely on Plan B... run.  Run quickly.

Hopefully D'Argo was nearby, like Plan A had called for.  He'd gone to get Lo'Laa ready for an immediate takeoff, and was supposed to meet them near the entrance.

Shots rang out across the room, exploding off walls and men.  Tables were being turned over and the room was complete chaos.  At least that was in their favor.  The mercenaries weren't sure whom they were supposed to be fighting, so they were firing at both the real Peacekeepers, and John's family.

It seemed like that had been the story of his life.  He grabbed the spare pulse pistol he'd brought and tossed it to Sethya.  The ex-commando caught it mid-air, and immediately began firing into the crowd, still cuffed.

Aeryn had thrown a pistol to Tean, and it seemed that everyone was now armed, if you counted that whip D'Argo's boy was snapping.  John had to give the kid credit; anyone who came within range was dropped by the tip hitting their neck.  Now if they could just get through the door.

"We have to get the girls!" Sethya yelled over the noise.

"Chiana will get them out," John assured.  "Let's go!"

Tean was the first to the door and he flung it open wide, holding his weapon ready for any mercenaries on the other side.  The passageway was empty, and the exit door to freedom was only a few motras away.  

John continued to cover the group with blasts from Winona as each of them exited and finally, he walked backward, firing the entire time until the door slammed in his face.  They were all crowded into the short passage.  John fired on the door-lock, melting the opening mechanism.  That would hold them for a few minutes.

As Aeryn went to their only exit, Shedya made quick work of Tean's cuffs, tossing them aside in distaste.  "You're really good at that," John commented.  "How much practice have you had?"

The black eyes looked up at him in wry humor.  "Lately?  More than I want to think about."

"John," Sethya interrupted, "we have to get Brennik out of here... now."

Shedya was standing between the two men, unlocking Sethya's cuffs, and the man had to continuously look around the kid to keep John in his vision.  Something was jammed and it was taking longer to pick the lock.

"Seth, they are safe.  Klune doesn't know about your connection..."

"John... every Peacekeeper in this sector is looking for her, and they have recent pictures.  There are literally thousands of people assigned to the sole task of locating her."

"All clear," Aeryn called from the open doorway.  "Let's go."

John flashed Sethya a look, telling him silently to not say a word to Aeryn, and that they would talk about this as soon as possible.  He must have gotten the message because even though his cuffs were still jammed, he joined the other two men as they headed for the door.  "You're sure about this?" John whispered as they walked.

"I have all the information in a storage cask."  He answered quietly.  They'd reached the doorway and the five huddled in the entrance, looking at the open field in front of them.  

Purple grass swayed peacefully in the moonlight, in direct contrast to the mayhem behind them.  The only cover in sight was a large tree a little to the left.  "Where's D'Argo?" John asked.  "He should have been here by now."

"Psst..." sounded from the left.  "Aeryn."

"D'Argo?" she asked in a loud whisper.  "Where the frell is Lo'Laa?"

"I couldn't get to her by myself.  The launch‑pad was surrounded with peacekeepers falling into ranks.  I tried to get back here to warn you."

Now what were they going to do?  They had half a metra to cover before they would reach D'Argo's ship, and there was no cover in site.

"Everyone down," Aeryn ordered.

No.  She couldn't be planning on...  yup.  She was.  Aeryn, using John's body as leverage, lowered herself to her hands and knees, crouching as low as she could in her expanded condition.  She slung her pulse rifle onto her back and began to crawl.

Tean and Sethya dropped to their stomachs and began to low‑crawl through the grass with amazing speed.  Grumbling, John dropped to his stomach and followed, making sure Shedya was right beside him.  As soon as he hit the ground, he realized the grass had been taller that it initially appeared.  When he was on his stomach, he couldn't see over the top of it.

Sethya had to be having difficulty, he was still cuffed.  But the man didn't complain once, merely followed the sounding swish of Aeryn crawling through the grass.  "D'Argo, come on!" John called as loudly as he dared, which ended up being a loud whisper.

"I am too old for this," came the surprisingly close voice of his best friend.

"You and me both, old man, you and me both."

"This is a Leviathan transport pod," the young waitress stated, staring at the entrance ramp.

"Yes it is," Brennik agreed, running past her and entering the ship.  "Are you coming?  We're in a hurry," she urged.

The young woman ran up the ramp and found a corner in the pod and sat, staring around her.  "If you could just drop me off at the next colony over," she began," I would really appreciate it."

"No time," Chiana mumbled, not looking at her as she prepared the pod for takeoff.  Brennik was already in the pilot's seat, and as soon as Chiana nodded, the ship was air‑born.

"Do you see them?" Brennik asked, scanning the monitor for any clue as to where they were while trying to keep an eye out for any prowlers.

"What are you guys doing?" the waitress asked.  "Let's get out of here.  This place will be swarming with Peacekeepers any microt now!"

"Shut‑up," Chiana ordered as she searched the screen.

Six small dots appeared and Chiana adjusted the view to a close‑up.  "What the frell!" the waitress exclaimed.  "You're with THEM?"

On the monitor were six individuals, on their stomachs, in the grass, slowly crawling toward a ship in the distance.  Peacekeepers and Klune's men surrounded them on three sides, and the distance was ever decreasing.  Soon, they would be cut off from any avenue of escape.

"They left Sethya cuffed!" Brennik exclaimed, outraged.  "What the frell?  They could free Tean but not Sethya?  I'm flying in," Brennik announced, moving the transport pod in their direction.

"NO!" Chiana ordered.  "You'll give away their position."

"What is THAT?" the waitress asked, pointing to an incoming ship at the right of the screen.

"That," replied Chiana calmly, "is a prowler."

All three held their breath as they watched the ship fly in closer, swoop down over the field of purple grass and over the advancing peacekeepers and mercenaries.  The six figures froze as it moved upward, out and then back again for another pass.  This was it.  Any microt now, it was going to open fire and the two women were going to have to watch as their family was riddled with pulse blasts.

The Prowler swooped high and on the second pass opened fire… right into the mob of advancing Peacekeepers.

"Aeric!" Brennik shouted, laughing and crying at the same time, hugging Chiana.  "That kid has been practicing," she said, trying to gain some semblance of control over her emotions.

"He can't keep them off long, Chiana reminded.  "The real prowlers are going to be on their way, now.  He's not a fighter pilot."

Chaos had broken out on the ground.  Peacekeepers began shooting into the air at the ship.  Mercenaries, thinking the Peacekeepers had been shooting at them, began firing at Peacekeepers, who in turn started firing at the mercenaries.  All of this was happening over the heads of the six individuals still hiding in the grass, their presence unknown to those surrounding them.

"Get me off this ship!" the young woman exclaimed.  "You were supposed to be taking me away from the fighting, not leading me right into it!"

"Not now," Brennik said, not bothering to look away from the screen and her controls.  Aeric was swooping around for another pass, and she didn't want to let the opportunity slip away.

"You ready Chiana?"

The Nebari woman hurried over to the waitress and shoved her aside, pulling at the floor plating.  Reaching into the cavern beneath, she pulled out two pulse rifles, throwing one to the waitress.  "You want out of here?  Here!" she said.  "If I catch you aiming at one of the six in the grass, I'll shoot you."

The young woman sighed in frustration and pulled the rifle to her stomach, completing a surprisingly quick and thorough inspection.  "Fine, if it will make this go faster.  What are we doing?"

There wasn't time to answer questions, so Chiana motioned to the door.  "Ready," she said.

Brennik pushed a button and the ramp to the transport stared to descend.  Chiana and the waitress braced themselves and hung out the open door as the pod descended.  The prowler was flying overhead, shooting into the main crowd and the two women fired at the closest soldiers.

The pod touched ground directly in front of Aeryn, rocking with the blast of pulse fire hitting its shell.  Aeryn stood and scrambled up the ramp, turning to help fire on the enemy.  The doorway was too crowded and as Tean scrambled up, she had to duck out of the way.

Sethya was next and then Shedya, but there were too many soldiers advancing and not enough firepower to keep them all away.  "Frell it!  This door needs to be bigger!" Chiana yelled, watching as John and D'Argo were trying to run to the pod.

A second prowler flew in from the right, headed for them at top speed.  Aeric, was turning his prowler around for another pass and probably didn't see it.  They were all sitting targets.

Pulse blasts surrounded them, the noise deafening, smoke obscuring their view of the approaching men.  John and D'Argo dropped to the ground, invisible to the transport pod and any soldiers in the vicinity.  The smoke was thick and pulse blasts kept any crew from exiting the transport.

"Get above the smoke!" Chiana yelled in desperation.  "MOVE!"

Aeryn shoved the waitress aside and the two women stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway as the transport pod lifted into the air, each holding their rifles with a fierce grip, each scanning the ground with desperate determination.  Their men were down there.

"Drop to the ground!" D'Argo yelled above the noise around them.

Without thinking, John dropped to the soft dirt, once again being swallowed by the tall purple grass.  D'Argo crawled up beside him and together they lay side by side.  The sky above them was clouded by smoke, highlighted by the light from the pulse blasts.

Men were yelling to be heard over the sounds of their weapons, and the hum of the passing prowlers accentuated the chaos.  The transport pod lifted up and hovered in the air, obviously trying to locate them.  If they stood, they'd be shot in less than two microts.

"Lo'Laa isn't too far away," D'Argo told him.  "I think we can make it."

John just looked at him with incredulity.  "There are fifty commando soldiers between us and it," he pointed out.  "Not to mention that we can't see where we're going.  We'd be crawling blind."

"Do you have a better plan?" his friend asked.

"No."

"Then start crawling."

Mumbling, John followed D'Argo into the grass.  Why did it seem like he was always running head first into suicide missions?

The enemy prowler circled around and headed straight for them.  Good.  As long at it targeted the transport pod, it wasn't going after the two men on the ground, or Aeric; who was in way over his head in this battle.

Sethya lay on his stomach in the doorway, at the women's feet, Tean beside him, taking shots at any soldiers advancing on John and D'Argo's last known location.  Hopefully they'd moved by now, but it was impossible to tell if they'd had a way out or not.

As the prowler approached, Chiana and Aeryn fired their pulse rifles, trying to aim with the jolting of the ship as Brennik attempted to fly evasive maneuvers.  She briefly thought back to the first time she'd been forced to try these same moves, and how hard it had seemed at the time, and how scared she'd been.  Now she was just angry and determined.  That was her father and he was lost down there in that foreign grass, under that cloud of smoke and rain of pulse blasts.

She'd be damned if she was going to let those filthy Peacekeepers have him.

The prowler circled around, easily outmaneuvering the unwieldy transport pod, heading straight for them for a direct kill‑shot.  This was going to be the end, and Brennik knew there was nothing she could do about it.  Time slowed and it seemed like the prowler was inching toward them.  She pulled the controls to the hard left, in one last‑ditch effort to save the ship.

Everyone in the doorway was thrown backward into the pod, weapons flying and bodies landing on top and around each other.  Shedya's whip tangled around Aeryn's leg and Chiana's arm.

It wasn't going to be enough.  She could hear the whine of the prowler's engine; taste the smoke from the chaos below.  Refusing to close her eyes, she forced herself to watch the end.  The prowler came closer, within range and she heard the whine of the weapon priming.

Lo'Laa dropped behind the prowler and with one efficient blast, turned the enemy ship in to a ball of flames.  "Move it everyone!" D'Argo's voice echoed through the ship's communicators.

"Aeric, Brennik, get out of here NOW!" John ordered, controlled panic seeping into his voice.

The three ships lifted away as more prowlers appeared over the horizon.  Wishing she could get out and push the slow transport, she steered upward.  The waitress climbed over the pile of bodies and closed the ramp manually before they were high enough to clear the atmosphere.  D'Argo hung behind as escort as the advancing Peacekeepers came closer.

Ten prowlers, she counted on the monitor.  There was no way they'd live through ten prowlers firing on them, no matter how hard D'Argo tried to cover for them.  She pushed the throttle harder and watched as Moya appeared with agonizing slowness.

"Pilot," D'Argo called over the ship's comms.  "Prepare for immediate starburst!"

Aeric's prowler disappeared into the ship and Brennik gained a little hope.  At least one of them would make it.  The prowlers got closer and as the darkness of space surrounded them, she saw the mass of a command carrier in the distance.  Her blood turned to ice and she pushed harder with no effect.

"Come on, come on," she said softly to the pod, her eyes darting between the image of the approaching Prowlers from behind and the approaching Leviathan in front.  They weren't going to make it.

"Three glinde mites, three glinde mites," came a loud, resounding base, singing from the pile of bodies that were busy disentangling themselves.  Sethya's voice carried to her, surrounding her, holding her.  "See how they run!  See how they run!"

"They all ran after the farmer's wife," Aeryn sang.

One prowler cut away from the rest and sped forward.

"Who cut off their tails with a charring knife," Tean sang.

The approaching prowler ducked to the left and circled around, coming at them from an angle that would put the transport pod in the line of fire if D'Argo tried to shoot.

"Did you ever see such a sight in your life?" Brennik sang.

The ship lurched as Moya's docking web grabbed hold.  "Prepare for immediate starburst," Pilot announced.

Brennik's heart beat exactly once as the bright blue light circled throughout Moya's systems and then exploded into the slipstream of starburst.

"Of three glinde mites," John finished over the communications.

Brennik let out her breath and bowed her head as the tension finally started to drain from her body.  Everything she had been holding back began to pour from her faster than she was able to compensate and the tears began to flow.  She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide her sobbing, embarrassed that after everything was finally resolved, she'd lose control.

Everyone slowly separated themselves, adjusting clothing and testing sore muscles.  Laighn found himself locked in the strong arms of his mother, and he did nothing to try to push her away, even when his leg began to cramp as he sat awkwardly on the floor.

"Everyone accounted for?" John asked and Chiana loosened her grip to look around.

"We have Brennik, Aeryn, Sethya, Shedya, Tean, me and… oh dren."

"What?" John asked.  "Who's missing?  Where's Aeric?"

"No," Chiana assured, staring at the ex‑waitress sitting angrily in the corner.  "Aeric made it to Moya.  We just picked up an extra person."

"Against her will," she spat.  "Where the frell did you take me?"

"Don't worry," Aeryn said.  "We'll drop you off at the next commerce planet we come to, with enough money to get back, if that's what you want."

The woman didn't answer, just sat with her arms crossed, her pinkish blue lips pursed, staring in front of her.  Nobody really blamed her, she hadn't asked to be starburst millions of metras away from her home.

"So we're all here?" John asked once again.

"Yes, John, we're all here," Aeryn answered.

The transport jolted slightly as it landed and the ramp lowered, showing the haggard crew the inside of Moya.  "Everyone, we need to meet in Command," D'Argo stated.  "Now."

"D'Argo, can't it wait?" Chiana asked, as she descended the exit ramp, holding onto Shedya.  "We just got back and the boys need medical attention."

Sethya walked out behind them and tapped Chiana on the shoulder, holding out his restrained wrists for her inspection.  They were red and swollen with all the crawling and shooting he'd been forced to do, and it seemed as if his circulation was being limited.  Chiana pulled a small metal stick from her hair and began to pick the lock.  Within a couple of microts, they clattered to the floor, and he began rubbing the sores as he watched everyone exiting their ships.

"They'll live," John said, exiting Lo'Laa to stand beside his best friend in the landing bay.  "We need to meet now."  Aeryn went to his side and he tucked her under his arm before kissing her on the head.

Aeric ran into the bay and never stopped until he pummeled into Aeryn, hugging her tight.  She put an arm around him and pulled him into their arms.  "You did well," Aeryn whispered to him.  "Don't ever do anything like that ever again."

"Dad," Brennik began angrily, joining the crowd that had assembled.  Traces of her tears were still apparent, her eyes still red and puffy.  "You have treated them like dren this whole…"

Sethya walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, cutting off her remark.  "Trust us," he said, his voice grave with concern.  "Just listen to what has to be said."  He placed his arm around her shoulder and squeezed, steering her out of the room.  She was mollified for the moment, and followed his lead.

Mumbling, moaning, and hobbling, the small crowd slowly left the landing bay and headed for command.

This was, by far, the scariest group of individuals she'd ever run across, and she'd been around the worst in the uncharted territories.  She'd pulled a stint as an entertainer on a Peacekeeper base, waitressed for Klune and his mercenaries, and pulled many shifts in the most decadent nightclubs imaginable.  The money was where the scum were.

But this crowd, these people, scared the dren out of her.

She'd heard of John Crichton, Aeryn Sun, Chiana and D'Argo during her stay on the military base.  They were infamous, and their stories were legends to some, used as life lessons for others.  They'd been held up before the Peacekeepers as abominations and their exploits were used as training exercises to teach the cadets how to protect themselves from irreversible contamination.

Sethya and Tean were spoken of in hushed tones among Klune's men, some in reverence of their skill and tenacity, others with hatred and venom.

But none of that had any effect on what she was feeling now. As she sat in Command, listening unobtrusively from the back by the door, what scared her most was the absolute lack of any sanity from any person there.  They were all completely fahrbot.

This impromptu meeting started with everyone collapsing on the nearest surface the microt they entered the room.  A purple creature was watching them from a giant shell-like monitor and Sethya walked to the front of the room, leaving Brennik to sit on the edge of a nearby table.

Earlier, she'd been shocked to see the murderer put his arm around Brennik and speak to her so tenderly.  The way they'd been in the club, she'd have never guessed there was anything between them.  But that had been the point, hadn't it?  Everything about this place was a puzzle.

"As all of you know, we left here to complete one last mission."  Everyone nodded affirmation and he continued.  "During the course of that mission, we obtained records that deal explicitly with Moya and her crew.  Specifically: Brennik."

Interesting, how everyone reacted.  John and D'Argo simply looked at him, waiting for him to continue.  They'd known about this.  Brennik turned pale, Chiana groaned, Aeryn let out a long breath and the boy's head turned to his sister so quickly, she wouldn't be surprised if he had a sore neck afterwards.  The other kid, she thought his name was Laighn from what had been spoken in the nightclub, but Chiana kept calling him Shedya, closed his eyes.

"We've had the Peacekeepers after us for nearly 28 cycles," Chiana said, her voice sounding weary.  "We'll deal with it."

"Not with this you won't."  He pulled a small cylindrical object from somewhere in his clothes and held it up.  His brother, Tean, pulled the object from his hand and went to one of the consoles, dropping the item into a hole.

A three dimensional image appeared on the table Brennik had been sitting on, and she moved so everyone could get a better look.  What they saw silenced everyone.  Data streamed by at a hurried pace and only by skimming could a person read any of it.  Skimming was enough.

There were three command carriers, four retrieval squads, and twenty marauder crews assigned to the sole purpose of locating one individual that they believed would stop the devastating war with the Scarrans... Brennik Crichton.  She was the daughter of the infamous John Crichton and Aeryn Sun, and her DNA was believed to be uniquely encoded with both Pilot DNA and wormhole technology.

Why the frell hadn't she been caught yet?

There was a secret base, deep inside the uncharted territories, built and designed for the sole purpose of experimenting with, and on, Brennik once she was apprehended.  Finally, a face appeared, larger than life and paused on the table before them.  No one could mistake the image.  She was slightly younger, her hair was longer and her eyes held a naïveté and innocence that was no longer there.  But the woman smiling at them with joy was undisputedly Brennik Crichton.

The picture hovered for several microts before the image changed and the scariest face she'd ever seen appeared, staring into the room as if he were actually present.  He looked like death.  His skin was pale and puckered around the edges of his black face mask.  His eyes were sunken in and purple around the edges.  It looked as if someone had dropped this face into a preservative, and then reanimated it cycles later.

"I wish I could see the look on your face right now, John.  It has been far too many cycles."

"What the frell!" Sethya exclaimed as John made a lunge for the picture.  D'Argo grabbed the... human?... by the shoulders and held him back.

"That won't help, John," his friend reasoned.

"As you can see, I have given up hope on you ever seeing the logic of our uniting forces," the face said.  "Despite the fact that the Scarrans travel closer every day to your home world, you still insist on keeping the wormhole technology from the one group of people who can help you.

"No matter, though.  I have found an alternate solution.  It will not be long."  The face smiled before getting in one last statement.  "I find it rather ironic, though, that after all you sacrificed, you still lost Officer Sun.  Was it worth it to you?  You can tell me personally, soon.  I have no doubt that once Brennik is assisting me, you will be more... cooperative.  It is inevitable John."

The face disappeared and the room sat in silence, staring at the empty table.

"I am dead," Brennik said.  "I couldn't help them if I wanted to.  And how the frell did they get a picture of me at the flying academy?"

"Right now," Aeryn said, "we have to decide what we are going to do."

The room grew silent, everyone thinking about their future.  "Tormented space," Chiana finally decided.  "It's the only way.  The Peacekeepers are still scared drenless of the place, and Moya has the shielding she needs."

Tormented space!  No one who ever went onto Tormented Space came out again.  She was getting off this ship as soon as she could get a transport.  Insane.  All of them.

"We can't ask all of you to go with us," John started.

"John," D'Argo interrupted.  "Whatever happens, we do it together."

"Thanks D," John said.  "I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Wait a minute," Brennik said, obviously outraged.  "This is ME we're talking about and I am standing RIGHT HERE.  I will decide what I'm going to do.  Not all of you."

Everyone looked at her for a moment and Sethya finally broke the silence in a soft, tender voice.  "All right, Brennik.  What are you and I going to do?"

Very efficient, that one.  In two short sentences, he managed to convey that she had a choice and that no matter what her decision- he was going to be with her for the outcome.  Why couldn't she find a man like that?  She had to give these people credit for loyalty.  Never in her life had she seen such fierce unity.

Brennik stood ramrod straight for several microts, staring in front of her, daring anyone to tell her differently.  Finally, slowly, her posture relaxed, almost deflating.  "What is this tormented space?" she asked.  "And how do we get there?"

A collective sigh sounded throughout the command, the relief obvious.  "Pilot, how about you and Moya?  I know it's scary for you.  Are you down for a ride through Tormented Space again?"

"Moya has... concerns... about returning to that area.  But she understands the necessity and does not want anything to happen to Brennik.  We are in agreement."

Returning?  These people had been there and came back before?  She merely shook her head.  Insane.

"Tean, Shedya?" John asked.  "You two are the only ones who haven't spoken up yet."

The blonde Sebacean merely shrugged.  "It's someplace I've never been before.  Count me in."

"I'm going," the hybrid answered.

So, all of them were planning on taking a ride through the toughest part of the universe just to protect one person.  Maybe this group wasn't so bad after all.  And she'd never been to Tormented Space before.  She wondered if the tips were any good out there.  It was time for her to move on anyway, she'd already spent way too much time on that last rock.

"Can I go?" she asked, startling everybody in the room.  They'd all pretty much forgotten she was there.  John raised an eyebrow and she shrugged one shoulder.  "I've never been there before either.  Thought I'd see if it's as tough as legend claims."

"It's worse," Chiana assured.

"Drad."

"I'm changing," Brennik declared, folding her arms over her bare stomach.  It was as if now that the action was gone and everything was settled, she'd just remembered what she was wearing.  Without saying a word, or looking around, she walked from the room.

That was the cue, and one by one the crew started to vacate command.  Eventually, she was left standing in an empty room with the blonde Sebacean, Tean.  "They're all farhbot," he said through a half smile.  "But you get used to them.  Let me show you where the spare rooms are, and you can pick one for yourself.  It's not like they don't have the space.  What's your name?" he asked, flashing a bright smile and heading for the door.

"Yetia," she told him.

"What a beautiful name.  Well, Yetia, You're in for a wild ride with this group."

She hoped so.  It was looking promising so far.

Aeric sat on the edge of his bed, his feet planted firmly on his skateboard, shifting it left and right.  The wheels made short whirring noises as it rocked back and forth and the sound was strangely comforting.  Nobody had asked him what he wanted to do.

It didn't really bother him, he hadn't expected to be consulted, and he would have said to go anyway.  But still... nobody had asked him.  Sighing, he pushed himself off the bed and wheeled out the door.  There were some good ramps, way up on tier two.  Everybody was home and safe for the microt.

No time like the present to get up a little speed.

"Ow!" Laighn exclaimed as Chiana dabbed a cloth at his forehead.  He flinched and Chiana followed his escaping head with dexterity.  He was sitting on a stool in their wash area and watched D'Argo clean his Qualta blade as his mother attended to his wounds.

"I have to clean this off," she said, trapping his face in one of her hands.

"It hurts," he whined, tossing out his little boy voice for his mother's benefit.  It really didn't hurt all that bad, but he'd learned a lot of things in the last several weekens.

D'Argo winked at him, and he knew he was doing the right thing.

His mother kissed his injury and pulled his head into a hug.  The angle was slightly uncomfortable, and it was difficult to breathe, but he didn't say anything.  Instead, he wrapped his arms around her slim waist and hugged her back.

"Thank you mother," he whispered.

She nodded and held tightly.  "We're proud of you," she said to the top of his head.

D'Argo nodded in agreement and suddenly, Laighn wasn't sure if the little boy voice was an act or not.  His chest filled and he breathed out deeply.  It wouldn't be manly to start crying like his mother.  But he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do, and he was finally home.

The lights were low, barely even on.  John sat on his bed, leaning against the wall, holding Aeryn in his arms.  One hand rested on her stomach making lazy circles.  Neither was talking and the room was silent.

Later the words would come.  Later they would work through the memories that returning to Tormented Space would resurrect.  Hell, later he'd rant and rave about Scorpy still chasing them and recruiting the Third Reich to turn his family into a guinea pig.

But right now he was holding Aeryn in his arms, they were headed the hell out of Dodge, and they had survived another day.  This had been one of the good days.  Aeryn shifted in his arms, resting her head in the crook of his neck and he squeezed her and kissed the top of her head.

They were all alive, Scorpy didn't know about Aeryn or Aeric yet, and his baby was strong and growing healthy.

Hope.

The lights were bright, showing everything clearly inside the cell, including Sethya standing still, staring at the wall as his hands rested on his hips.  He had changed into black leather pants and a brown leather, waist length jacket.

Brennik stood in his doorway, nervous about entering.  Strange that after everything that happened, everything they'd shared, she'd feel shy right now.

"Hello," she whispered and watched as he turned his face to her, a small smile gracing his lips.

"Hello."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and twisted the edge of her shirt in her fingers.  "How's your eye?"  She had a thousand things she wanted to ask, to tell him, but it all escaped her and she was grasping at the first thought that entered her mind.

"I've had worse," he said.  He watched her eyes intently, evidently waiting to see what she was going to do next.  When she didn't speak for a moment, he lifted a hand briefly toward her head.  "Nice haircut."

She didn't get mad at his sarcasm, which surprised her.  There was a time that statement would have started a war.  Instead she merely smiled.  "I like it."

He nodded and the silence returned, both of them eyeing each other.  Why was this so awkward?  She shifted to the other foot, her t-shirt getting mangled.  Was he regretting the promise he'd made before he left?  He had said that they would be together.  Maybe something had changed his mind.

"Well," she stated, starting to turn back to the door, "you must be tired.  You should rest."

"Princess," he called softly, and she had to choke back some tears at the endearment.  She turned to see him facing her, his arms spread wide, invitingly.  "Come here."

She didn't feel the ground beneath her feet as she went to him, slipping her arms beneath his jacket and around his waist.  She rested her head against his chest and let his warmth spread through her as she listened to his strong heartbeat.

His arms wrapped around her and held her tightly, almost too strong in their grip; as if they would never let her go.  His lips kissed her hair, before she felt his cheek rest against the top of her head.

She closed her eyes and let his strength, his warmth, mingle with hers.  She felt safe, protected, cherished.  He began to rock gently, as if soothing a small child, and together they held each other, each reassuring the other that they were together again.

All hell would surely break loose in another ten microts; it always did on this ship.  But it didn't matter, she wouldn't dwell on that.  She had right now, in her man's arms.  And even the Peacekeepers chasing them couldn't, wouldn't, ruin the moment for her.

She'd learned a lot since she'd first told her father she was going to the flying academy; she was no longer the person she once was.  She didn't want to be.

Honor.

Unity.

Loyalty.

Love.

Tormented space didn't stand a chance.


End file.
